Airplanes
by DivineRose2392
Summary: "You're cute," he said as he ruffled her hair. He then smoothed it back out, running his fingers through her hair. This was torturing her. "I would but I can't. My flight leaves tonight." AriadnexArthur
1. Airplanes

Ariadne turned to Arthur at the airport. Just behind him were signs in French that she could make out. It was difficult for her to look into his chocolate brown eyes. They may seem empty to the people that pass him on the streets; he looked like a business man. One that was corrupt by the corporate world. That is what he appeared to be but it was nothing more than an illusion to her now. The tough, sly persona had worn off on her.

He was donned in black slacks, and white button down shirt, with black waistcoat over it and crimson tie that just said, "Get out of my way. I'm not here to play games". He wore a black trench coat that he seemed to be snug in. He tapped his foot lightly as he secretly but not so secretly look at her.

She was trying not to make the situation awkward. They stole glances at each other from the side, pretending to focus on their mission: finding their correct piece of luggage. Although she was trying to avoid his face by looking at the gate signs, Arthur's gaze was on her and _only_ her. He didn't even take his eyes off of her when he grabbed her bag and his bag off of the conveyer belt for luggage pickup.

"Come on, let's get you home," he told her softly.

Ariadne was not expecting him to walk away with her bag. He kept moving with it and was not going to stop, even if she wasn't following him. She adjusted her carryon bag on her shoulder and proceeded after him. His pace was a light walk, giving her enough time to catch up to him. He moved smoothly throughout the crowd like he was a thief in the night or a pickpocket in the cities.

"Arthur, I could just take a cab. You don't have to go through all of this trouble to bring me back—"

"No, it's okay."

They took a tram to the parking garage where there was a valet standing aside. Arthur pulled out a small, square piece of paper that was not even crinkled, and handed it to the man. He yelled something in French to his coworker as he fetched the keys from the booth. The man tossed the keys to the young man. The young man nodded and started to jog up the ramp that led to the second floor.

"I planned ahead," Arthur told her. He wasn't a man that played it by ear. He was a man that needed to map out what he was doing before he sprung into action. Except if something dire inferred. Then he would use what little imagination Cobb supposedly said he had. His appearance seemed to intimidate the valet who was standing nervously at his post. But Ariadne glanced at Arthur from the corner of her eye and saw that he just looked tired.

He wanted to sleep. Sleep peacefully.

He wanted to dream. Dream safely.

A silver sports car skidded around the corner and pulled up to them. The younger valet bailed out and handed the car keys to its rightful owner. Arthur tipped him and put Ariadne's suitcase in the trunk. Before she could reach for the door, he acted the role of a gentleman and opened it for her.

"After you," he said softly.

"Thank you," she said with a keen grin.

She slid into the leather seat and placed her carryon bag in the backseat. Arthur pulled around into the driver's seat and closed the door. Alone at last. He turned off the radio that was blasting rather irritating R&B song in French. She thanked him mentally for turning it off. Even though there was nothing but pure silence, aside from the soft purr of the engine, she didn't want to break the serenity of the moment. He pulled out of the garage slowly. It was raining. Ariadne buckled herself in and breathed slowly. Rain. The sight of rain made chills go down her spine. She recalled in her mind how she felt the cold raindrops hit her clothes; how she breathed in the scent of it, mixed in with the aromas of the street. She reached inside her pocket for her totem but remembered that she put it in her carryon. She didn't want to seem suspicious reaching back to grab it.

"You alright?" he asked her.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, her voice cracking on the second yeah.

"Are you car sick already?"

"No, I'm fine. Just exhausted."

"That's what jetlag can do to you. Why don't you take a nap? By the time you close your eyes, you'll be home." His voice was like silk. It was a like he was trying to put her under a spell to make her fall asleep. She twiddled her thumbs together and then slouched in her seat.

"I don't think I can sleep after what we just went through," she admitted.

She spent a week in Los Angeles, but that still wasn't enough time to recuperate. How could she jump back into her regular schedule when she experienced something so dangerously addictive? After the inception, she had the urge to design layouts and build them. By the way she was shifting slightly in her seat made him notice that she was anxious.

"H-how long did it take you to sleep normally?" she dared to ask him. "How are you not affected by this? I-I know that you've done this many times—" Arthur took his eyes off of the road for a mere second to give her a comforting glance.

"I was affected by it, too. Just because I've done this before doesn't mean that I walk away with no emotion. You went through three—"

"Four."

"Four dream levels and we planted the idea in Fischer's head. We achieved what seemed to be the impossible. It takes time to rest up on doing something that people dream of doing, no pun intended." What seemed to be a small smile flashed across his lips. Ariadne couldn't help but smile herself. She liked it when he gave the slightest hint of happiness, even if it was through one of his cunning smiles. "To be able to go into people's dreams and plant a small thought that may affect the future or the person themselves."

"It's poisonous," she said, bitterness resting on her tongue. Arthur stopped at a red light. The rain falling drowned out the sound of the windshield wipers going back and forth at mach two.

"It's venom that is stronger than the sedative that practically put us in a coma like state." He placed his hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. "You just have to know when to step back and breathe."

"What do you mean?"

"Fall back into regular sleep patterns. It's difficult at first, because you're not controlling your dream like you are when we do it, unless if you know how to lucid dream. When I first started, I was constantly checking my totem. Eventually, I forgot about that and found sleep at last. I was able to hack into people's dreams during the day and sleep peacefully with dreams that were like every other subconscious."

"What did you dream about?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows at her. She was expecting a menacing look from him, but there was nothing but exhaustion that read in his eyes. "Most of them I couldn't remember. Many of my dreams involve me observing people. But since inceptions have altered my process of thinking, I tend to lucid dream more. I know it's my own mind for I wake up."

The light turned green. They continued on their way to Ariadne's apartment complex.

"How long did it take you?"

"Not too long. Two weeks tops."

"Two weeks? I have school!"

"You're covered with excuses."

"What did you do?"

"Thank Eames for it. He's the one who called the college and said that you were put on a new medication that made you feel very drowsy due to some bodily function that wasn't working properly."

"Are you serious? He said _that?_"

"You have about two weeks to sleep normally again."

"It's not going to be easy."

"I never said it was going to be easy. It's like trying to eat again after voluntarily starving yourself. It's tricky to fall back into a simple routine after stopping it. Sleep is a key importance for your health. You have to drop the idea of inceptions and go back to normal."

"Easier said than done." Ariadne stared out the window and placed her head against the glass pane. She rubbed her arms; the air conditioning was ice cold, even if she was wearing her sweater. Arthur kept his eyes on the road and turned off the air.

"You'll be getting a check in the mail."

"For what?"

"You think that we did this assignment for free? We didn't risk our minds for nothing."

"Well, it'll get me through a few months of rent."

Arthur chuckled lightly. Ariadne liked his laugh. It wasn't obnoxious or strange. It was one that place butterflies in her stomach. She gave a quiet sigh and leaned against the car door.

"Are you sure you're not car sick?"

She shook her head.

"Try and sleep now. Just close your eyes and think of…what makes you happy. Think of what you may be learning in your next class. Imagine, Ariadne. I know that you have imagination."

Ariadne gave him one last look before she turned back to the window and closed her eyes. She focused on the motion of the car, feeling the tires glide along the slick road. She heard Arthur turn the radio back on, but switched it to the classical music station, where the piano streamed with composure through the airwaves. She found it tough to fall asleep. She went into stage one and stage two of sleep constantly, falling in and out of conscious. Stage three of sleep was disabled: deep sleep. Her mind wouldn't get over the fear of dreaming normally again.

At some point down the road she found herself scrunched up in a ball on the seat. And at this same point, she felt that Arthur had covered her body by placing his trench coat over her. She clutched the inside of his coat and shifted in her seat. She heard him give an amusing but quiet chuckle.

Her muscles began to relax again until they were numb. The piano music mixed in with pitter-patter from the rain and she had blocked it out. Arthur was silent the whole car ride. Just when she thought she had finally fallen asleep, he shook her shoulder again the same why he had done before and said, "Welcome home."

Ariadne blinked up at the towering apartment complex and stared at it. Finally. She was home. But her body didn't want to move. She wanted to remain in the car, curled up under Arthur's coat.

"This is your home, is it not?" he asked.

She wanted to say that it wasn't so that they could drive around the block several times. The realization finally hit her that she had to leave him behind.

"No, it is," she muttered. The dreary scene just made the building look gloomy and empty. This didn't feel like home to her at the moment. Arthur reached around the backseat and pulled out an umbrella. Where he got that, Ariadne didn't know. She shrugged it off. Her dashing gentleman killed the engine and opened the car door. He popped open the umbrella and stepped under it, slamming the door behind him. Ariadne heard him open the trunk. Her heart felt like it was skipping beats.

She saw a woman walk by, who gave her a curious look from her to Arthur. Just the thought of him made him appear right next to her door. She reached back for her carryon as he opened the door for her, and she stepped out under the umbrella clutching his coat to her chest. They caught each other's stare before Arthur asked her to show the way. He held the umbrella over the both of them, while carrying her suitcase. They went into the building, arriving in the lobby. One of her neighbors was down stairs, sitting in one of the chairs. He looked up at them, raising an eyebrow at Arthur as he closed up the umbrella.

"This way," Ariadne told her bell boy. They went up two floors before going down the hall of the third floor. She patted her pockets on her jeans for her key and realized it was in her bag. Arthur waited patiently behind her surveying the hallway.

"Looks like a French quarters hotel I had to stay at in New Orleans," he commented. "New Orleans did a good job replicating this type of building."

"What were you doing in New Orleans?" She rummaged through her bag to find her key.

"…Mardi Gras."

She stopped and slowly turned her head towards his direction. He raised his eyebrows at her and said, "What?"

"You don't look like the Mardi Gras type."

"Hmm, there are many things about me that'll surprise you. Besides, I was there for business. It wasn't all play."

"Oh? And what other surprises are you hiding?" she asked as she finally pulled out her apartment key.

Arthur gave her a crooked smile and didn't say anything else. Ariadne opened the door to her apartment. Her place was rather warm, which felt good against her clothes that were slightly damp. She beckoned him to come in and he did so.

"Where would you like this?" he asked as he pointed at her suitcase. She draped his trench coat over the back of one of her lounge chairs in the living room.

"Uh, can you put it in my room, please?"

He nodded and went further into the living room. He was moving slowly, taking in her apartment. Her notes for class were scattered on her coffee table; binders stacked up on one side of her couch; pens and pencils were the only objects that were placed neatly in a pencil cup.

"Sorry about the mess. I was designing dream layouts and doing some work for my class at the same time before I left." As she looked over how neat and orderly Arthur looked, she was embarrassed of the mess.

"Don't apologize. It feels comfortable in here," he said as he walked into her room. He didn't bother to examine her room, although he did peer in to get a glimpse of it. He turned to the living room standing behind the couch.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Oh no, I'm good. Thank you, though."

She made her way up to him and finally looked him square in the eye.

"Arthur…."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for helping me through this. For everything. Thank you for taking me home. You really didn't have to."

"You're welcome. I wanted to make sure you got home safely."

"Arthur?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I get you anything? Can I do something for you?" She was talking quickly, like she was on the verge of spilling a deep dark secret. "You look tired. Y-you're more than welcome to spend the night so that you don't fall asleep at the wheel."

Arthur chuckled and she blushed. First it was her messy abode and now it was saying something too ridiculous. But he was smiling.

"You're cute," he said as he ruffled her hair. He then smoothed it back out, running his fingers through her hair. This was torturing her. "I would but I can't. My flight leaves tonight."

"Where do you live?"

"I don't really have a home. I just roam around really."

Ariadne felt her heart sink. She looked away from his brown eyes and took a subtle step closer, leaning on the back of the couch.

"Where are you going then?"

"Is it important—?"

"I just want to know where you'll be," she spat out. "I'm back home. Safe and sound. So is Cobb. Eames called you—"

"Yeah, I know."

But of course he didn't pick up. They couldn't help but grin at him and Eames's love-hate relationship.

"I just want to know where…." Ariadne pondered on how to word her sentence. "I want to know where your home will be this time."

"You know I'm not a kid."

"Yes, I know! But I worry about these things—"

"No you don't."

"I do too. I was constantly on Cobb's case."

Arthur shrugged and nodded in agreement to that. "Alright, alright," he said. "I'm going to Edinburg. It's my resting spot."

"You won't be too far away," she said quietly as she folded her arms across her chest. She didn't want him to leave just yet. Her only sense of reality was going to leave her. "What time do you leave?"

"Nine."

She checked her clock on the wall and it read around 6:30.

"You could always take a nap if you want."

"Ariadne, I'll be fine—"

"But you look really tired. You should rest—"

He took her hands in his and that made her shut up. They were wet from the rain, but past the water she felt how warm they were. His hands were giant compared to her small ones; they overpowered her completely. She'd hate to see him angry, and what he would do with them. Some of their fingers intertwined loosely.

"I'll be fine," he told her. "I have to get back for check-in and go through security. It's going to take some time to get back to the airport. Believe me, if I wasn't on a time restraint, I would stay."

"Um," she said. She remembered that his coat was on her chair. She looked at it and then back at him. "Do you want your jacket?"

"You can keep it. I have another one."

Ariadne touched her scarf that she usually wore around her neck. He eyed her hand and then looked in her eyes again. "Since I have your jacket…." She took off her scarf. Arthur was about to object but she placed it in his hand. She took his other hand and placed it over the scarf locking it between his hands. "It's only fair."

He looked at the light floral print that went with any one of her outfits. His fingers grazed the material. "Isn't this your favorite one?"

"It is but I have others. I can always find a new favorite."

"Thanks." Arthur folded her scarf up neatly, placed it in his waistcoat pocket, and patted it. "For safe keeping." To think that staring at someone for a long time without talking would be discomfited, but the silence had fitted better than them trying to talk their way into saying goodbye. She was hoping that he would change his mind, and spend a little more time here. He placed his hands on her shoulders, gripping her tightly. "It's been nice working with you, kid."

"I'm not a kid either," she said with a sad smile. Arthur beamed back at her but it matched hers. "You're always welcome back here, you know. You don't have to call…you can just pop in."

"If only people out in the world were as loving as you, like your projects." Ariadne couldn't help but giggle. It pained her, though. "Thank you." He gave her shoulders a squeeze. "Take care, Ariadne," he whispered. And this was where he was going to exit. Her shoulders felt so light that she felt like she was going to go into zero gravity again. She got an impulse to stop him. Just as he reached the hallway she ran right in front of him. He had his umbrella in his hand, preparing to be blasted by the rain again outside. He was surprised by her sudden urge to stop him.

He didn't go around her, nor set her aside. He stared at her with a content look on his face. The tiredness that rested in his eyes made her feel sleepy and sympathy for him. Here was a hard working man who doesn't get the time of day to even sleep normally like the rest of the world.

"W-will I….?" Ariadne couldn't get it out. Why was she stuttering? Why did she look like a complete ass? What was wrong with her? "Will I see you again?"

Arthur encased his arms around her, trapping her against his body. He rested his face in her hair. She wouldn't care if he fell asleep like that. He deserved to close his eyes and breathe anew. She placed her forehead against his chest; his silk tie stuck to her skin because of the rain. She felt the tears weld up in her eyes but she dared not to let them fall. Crying wasn't her style. This wasn't her at all. Now that everything was over, no business, no designing levels, none of that, it was just her and Arthur. Extractions were no longer between them. All of her feelings were making her brain mush, like she was going into limbo herself. She cursed herself with having such an emotional attachment.

As much as she wanted to keep him here, there was something in her mind saying that she had to let him go. She's had close relationships before, and although she just met Arthur weeks ago, she felt like she was intimate with him on a different level. He pulled her away from him and stared at her for a long time.

"Will I?" she asked again.

"Dream, Ariadne. Dream." He tucked her hair behind her ears, letting his hand linger on her cheeks before finally letting her go. She saw him look at his hands and then back at her. She saw nothing but regret. He looked over his shoulder at her before he left. Ariadne stared at the closed door for what felt like hours. She slowly turned and saw his coat still sitting on her chair. She went over to it and put it on. She curled up on the cushioned and closed her eyes. For once, she wished this was a dream. She wished she could wake up and still be in the car. Opening her eyes didn't help.

This was reality.

0-0-0

Arthur reached in the backseat and grabbed his carryon and another jacket he had to cover it. When he moved his jacket, he found something that wasn't his. He picked it up and examined it. It was a pawn painted gold from a chess board. He held it in his hand rubbing his thumb over it.

"Her totem," he whispered. He checked his watch and saw that he had no time to drive all the way back to her apartment. "This must've fallen out of her bag….Goddamn it." He stuffed it in his waistcoat pocket and continued to empty his belongings out of the car. As he made his way over to the airport, got checked out by security, and waited for his flight that had been delayed for a short period because of the rain, he only had one thing on his mind: Ariadne. He reached in his pocket and felt her totem. His thumb ran over it again, feeling the craftsmanship of her work.

"—Gate 49—" said the English voice over the loud speaker. Arthur boarded the plane with a numb feeling in his legs. He eventually pulled out her totem when he was in the air. He held the pawn out in front of him and then pressed it to his lips. The passenger next to him was eyeing him.

"Lucky charm," he muttered. He pulled out Ariadne's scarf that was compacted neatly and wrapped her totem up in it. His fingers went over the fabric; the soft cotton made him feel sick. It reminded him of her apartment and how he said it made him feel comfortable. Like he was home. His heart sank like the plane was about to take a dive for the water. He looked out the window and down onto the earth. _Ariadne, _he thought. The power of sleep was not powerful enough. He needed a sedative to knock him out. While everyone in the cabin was fast asleep, he remained awake thinking of how she wasn't going to be sleeping either.

* * *

HAHA! Funny thing about this story! First off, excuse my cursing, because I'm not going to hold anything back. Second off: I fucking loved Inception! Especially these two! 3(Joesph Gordon Levitt: You are beautiful. Ellen Page: I've always been a major fan. You both are adorable together). (Clears throat). MOVING ON!

Now, I was trying to stray away from fluff, because I despise it, but I landed in Fluff Land (FL) and made a frowny face D:

But anyway! Funny thing about this story! There is actually a WHOLE OTHER part to this. It switches back to Ariadne's point of view. I finished it, and realized this story could be three separate ones. The ending to this story was the first idea (in the other part) that I had with these two, and I'm debating whether to make that a whole other story or not. But then I looked at the whole thing and said,

"What the fuck, Vicki? THIS IS NOT WHAT YOU HAD IN MIND BEFORE!" And it went off to FL.

And not going to lie, but I was kinda depressed by this ending. And normally, I don't get depressed by my own writing. Because the next part is where Ariadne is talking to Eames on the phone and I love Eames as well (Tom Hardy, you sexy beast). So I am debating whether or not to make this a two-shot...IT'S A ONE SHOT FOR NOW!

I usually do a playlist, but believe it or not, I was listening to, yes, the annoying song 'Airplanes' by B.o.b feat. Hayley Williams (I only like Hayley's part, that's because I love Paramore, but whatevs). And I was listening to a lot of Ellie Goudling. She's awesome too :D

Review or fave. I really don't care (because I'm not proud of this story, so meh). I'm still experiment with this couple.

Love, DivineRose2392

P.S. I know, they're not in character...but I don't give a shit. WHOO!


	2. Eames the Messenger

Ariadne packed up her books and stuffed them in her messenger bag. It had been ten days since he left through her front door. Over these ten days the total hours of sleep all together at this very moment was only twelve hours. The normal human being gets seven to eight hours of sleep each night. She had lost her totem and had no desire or will power to make another one. It was like she couldn't replace it.

"Ariadne," Professor Miles said. She looked at her professor, the one who told Cobb about her. The one who's fault it was that she got into this mess. Everyone had left the room, so she approached him. Miles leaned back in his chair and observed her exhaustion as she put on the jacket that Arthur let her have.

"Yes, Professor?"

"How are you coming along?"

"Uh, okay, I guess."

"How about your other professors? Is the excuse working?"

"Yeah, it is. I don't know how Eames exactly worded my 'condition', but it's working. I'm having trouble sleeping. I've been living off of caffeine."

"That's not healthy."

"I know it's not. But my body isn't used to sleeping normally."

"The inception experience is on your mind?"

That wasn't the only thing on her mind. She didn't want to be caught in a dream where he was there but know he wasn't real. It was a silly notion, for she is the one who told Cobb that Mal wasn't real. Now she had the idea that she was the one who got incepted.

"Yeah," she said, lying through the skin of teeth. "I'll be okay, though."

"If you say so. But don't get too caught up in the idea that reality is a dream, my dear. Focus on boring things like this class."

"This class isn't boring," Ariadne laughed.

"Tell that to the few students who say that this is their napping period," Miles said with a smile. "Keep up the good work, Ariadne. Try and get some sleep."

"I will. Thanks, Professor."

She bid him goodbye and escaped through the door. She pulled out her cellphone and scrolled through her address book until she found Eames. Pressing the call button made her feel uneasy and excited at the same time. Eames had stolen her phone at the airport and programmed his number in her phone, which gave her the opportunity to swap numbers.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Rin—

"'Ello, my darling, how are you doing?" came Eames soothing British voice.

"Hi, Eames," Ariadne said as she finally exited the campus. As much as she didn't want to, she was making her way home. "I'm doing okay. How about you?"

"Just peachy. How did my excuse work?"

"It's going rather well, actually. I don't know what you _exactly _told them, but whatever it was, it's working."

"Excellent! Just what I wanted to hear! Now, what can I do for you?"

"Um, I know that you probably don't want to hear about this, but I was wondering if you heard from Arthur at all."

"Now that is a difficult question to answer, because I haven't heard from him in a while. Now there are two possible reasons why. One: he sees it's me calling so he doesn't bother to pick it up. Two: he's busy and doing something, which is hard to imagine because he can be a stick in the mud. Is there something you need from him?"

"I lost my totem—"

"What a pity."

Ariadne stopped at a crosswalk with a group of people. This wasn't exactly a good time to talk about 'business'.

"Yeah, I know, I know. I had it with me on the plane and I thought I put it in my carryon, but it wasn't there. It wasn't in my luggage either."

"Have you not been sleeping?"

"Of course I have."

"You're lying. You cannot hide the truth from Uncle Eames."

"You're not my uncle…I guess I could consider you as one, though…I haven't been sleeping that well. I would feel better if I had my totem with me." The light turned green. "Hold on one second, Eames." She joined the herd of people in the walk to make it across the street. She started to head towards the usual bridge that she took home. "I'm not used to dreaming normally anymore."

"You, out of all of us, didn't believe in the dream world. You knew who and what was reality and what wasn't."

"No one told me that there was a side affect to inception."

"Well, darling, we don't talk about what our job is. Psychiatrists don't understand."

"Eames, I have a feeling that you've always been screwed up in the head. This is an everyday thing to you."

"Thank you, I'll take that as a compliment. But don't let him keep you awake. It's not worth the trouble."

"What do you mean by 'him'?"

"I'm not blind, Ariadne. Arthur doesn't have many friends. Actually, I think he has no friends, even though I kid around with him all the time; it's quite amusing to get him mad." Ariadne had to laugh at that. "It's difficult to get much out of him, besides when he gives me glares when I knock him over or tease him. Maybe a swear word here and there. But even though you had just met him, he really felt comfortable around you."

"Eames—"

"You were like his little apprentice. It was kinda cute."

Ariadne felt her cheeks burn up as she made her way up the stairs to the bridge. "Eames, I need to know if he has my totem. I'd feel much better if I had it."

"I'll leave a message on his voicemail if that makes you feel better."

"I-I guess so."

"And Ariadne, be careful. Although Arthur is alive, don't think about him as much. You'll lose your grip on reality asking yourself if he's real or not if you ever see him again."

"Will we have other job opportunities to plant an idea in a person's mind? Or extract ideas?"

"That's up to Cobb. But I think it's a good idea to lay off of him for a while. I think he needs to spend a long time with his little tykes."

She stopped at another crosswalk and waited for her turn to walk across the road safely. The sun was nowhere to be found. She wanted to curse at the sky, but she was afraid that as soon as she did that, then the skies would open up and downpour on her. She didn't have her umbrella on her.

"I have no objection to that."

"I think we'll meet sometime in the future. Put the best point man and architect together and you either get utter chaos or a beautiful masterpiece."

"What do you mean by that? Why must you always speak in riddles?"

She heard Eames chuckling from the other side. Now she knew how Arthur felt when he got teased by him. "I mean that your emotions also project in dreams, my dear. Who knows what artwork you'll create if you see him again."

"Are you saying I like him?"

"Are you saying that I am right?"

"Don't play mind games with me, Eames."

"I don't understand why you need him. He seems rather…dull to me."

"He's not dull. Maybe misunderstood. I don't know. There's something—Damn you!" People on the street looked at her but she ignored them. She was past the part of being embarrassed that she was going to make a scene. She was cranky. She wanted to sleep without having a kick of her own.

"What?"

"You're getting me to confess! Just call him. Something. Anything. I need to know if he's seen my totem or not—" A raindrop hit her head and she looked up. More raindrops started to fall from above. "Oh no."

"What's wrong?"

"It's starting to rain."

"Alright, listen, love, I will call him and if he has it, I'll give you a call."

"Thanks. Talk to you soon—"

"Get some sleep, dear. You're going to need it. And stay dry!"

Eames hung up and Ariadne started to make a break for it. She ran in the rain all the way until she reached her front door. She let herself in and then slid down her closed door. She wrapped his wet jacket tighter around her and curled up. Eames was right. She had to let him go. She didn't want to seem desperate to see Arthur again.

However, as strong as she wanted to be. As much as she wanted to tell him goodbye. As much as she wanted to forget everything he told her.

She couldn't.

There was no way she could deny her emotions. She could only mask her feelings for so long before that cover crumbles to pieces. Now there was no ounce of care in her if she seemed like she was trying to hide it all. What was the point of bottling it up? It would only build on like a layer of a dream. It would become more complicated. There would be that part in her life where she would snap, because of how she locked it up in the back of her mind. It would be an easy extraction if Cobb went in her dreams. All she would ask for was Arthur and then she would open up.

"I hate this," she said. A yawn passed through her lips. She remained on the floor, leaning again her door, and curled up in Arthur's jacket. There was no determination to do any of her homework. There was always the idea that she was going to become delusional if she didn't get any sleep. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly.

_"Just step back and breathe." _

Within what felt like seconds, she was fast asleep against her door.

0-0-0

Arthur woke up and couldn't move. Paralysis had settled throughout his whole body. He remained like that for a minute, only able to turn his head from side to side. His vision was playing tricks on him for he kept seeing a short but feminine silhouette. Colors of red, brown, a light purple and white blended in, the texture of the hair started to turn soft wavy style—

He was finally able to move, rolling over to escape the visual torture. It had been two weeks and three days since he had left. He ran his hand over his face and mumbled, "Jesus Christ" into his sheets. He loosened up the ball form he was in and stretched out his long limbs. The feeling of discomfort pricked his muscles and bones. Rolling out of his bed was just as painful. The box spring seemed like it wanted to launch him off of it for it was so springy. He dragged himself to the bathroom and splashed some water on his face. He looked like he'd just got hit by a train and then stumbled down the hillside. He wasn't used to seeing his hair such a mess or having red rings under his eyes. His pajamas were the only thing that was orderly. A white t-shirt and dark blue sweat pants. Eames had asked him one time if he slept in a suit and tie, for that was all Arthur was ever seen in.

There was a knock on his door. His eyes were still adjusting to the sun that streamed through his hotel room. It was an apartment style hotel room with a kitchen and bathroom, but made with stone and wooden floors. His alarm clock was the rooster that crowed at the crack of dawn. He'd seemed to be a man who would hide out in an extravagant hotel. However, he liked the silence. He liked not being seen by the public. It would be too easy to track him if he was being followed. The hillside was the last place that anyone would ever find him.

"Coming," he said groggily. Arthur didn't hear the rooster this morning, so he had no idea what time it was. When he opened the door his face went from blank to…

Well, he couldn't exactly say what his emotion was. It was confused, angry, and tired.

"You know, you're such a schmuck, Sleeping Beauty," Eames said as he shouldered his way past Arthur. There was no point in pulling out his loaded die to make sure he was dreaming. He knew he wasn't. Arthur would never dream about Eames. That was a fact.

"Good morning to you too, jerk," Arthur muttered. He turned around and stared at his bothersome friend. "I can kick you out—" Eames reached behind Arthur and slammed the door shut. Eames did not look pleased. "…Or not. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Did you really think that staying in Scotland would keep me away? Now I know the British and Scottish don't favor one another, but really?"

"I was praying it would work. I guess God isn't on my side."

"Nope, He's on mine. Darling, we need to talk."

Eames took a seat in one of the wooden chairs at the small dining table.

"You want coffee? I boycotted tea," Arthur said with a bitter tone.

"Ha ha, aren't you funny?" Eames said sarcastically, but sounded amused. "As long as if you don't poison it, then sure."

Arthur got the water ready and put coffee grinds in the cone. Even if he was smack-dab in the middle of nowhere, there was still present technology available. The smell of coffee being freshly brewed was the highlight of his morning so far. It's what he looked forward to every day. That's what her apartment had smelled like: coffee beans. It went along with her school work scattered everywhere.

"So what is with the name calling?" he asked Eames. "Did Cobb send you? It's difficult to get reception here—"

"This has nothing to do with Cobb. Dom, last time I talked to him, was at Disney Land with his children."

"You're kidding me."

"No, you heard correctly: Dom and Disney Land in the same sentence."

"Dear God. He's living in a small world now."

"No pun intended. I always hated that ride."

"What are _you_ doing here, then?" Arthur asked as he took the other seat across from Eames.

"You look like shit."

"Excuse me if we cannot wake up every morning looking like you, Morning Glory. And what's with the weird ass silk shirts? What are you? Still stuck in the seventies? Disco is dead."

"Someone's cranky." Eames started to laugh and said, "Why thank you. I wore it just to piss you off. But I thought you always slept in a tuxedo. The only way I knew it was you at the door was because of your facial expressions. They're quite distinctive." At least his pants were normal. He also had on a pair of "Converse", Arthur thought. The pair of shoes that teenagers found fashionable in America. He was immature enough to be child. It worked for him.

"Eames, I am not in the mood to fool around. What do you want from me? What did I do?"

The smell of grounded coffee beans filled his nostrils and it made his head swim. He got back up and went to get some pain killers for his headache in the bathroom. He opened up the medicine chest and pulled out a bottle of Advil. "Thank God."

"Well," Eames voice came from the kitchen. Arthur came back in and poured himself a glass of water. Eames watched him as he gulped down the pills. "You're a schmuck."

"We've already established that. Please, care to elaborate? Or I really will poison your coffee….I mean it."

"I don't understand how you can be so heartless to her—"

"What are you talking about?" Arthur didn't have any patience this morning. He normally didn't get ticked off, but because Eames was here it made the situation worse. He liked logic. Not theoretical riddles.

"Jesus, what the hell jabbed you in the ass?"

"Sorry, sorry…I just didn't sleep well last night."

"Yeah and neither did she. You should know exactly_ who _I am talking about."

Arthur pulled down two coffee mugs from the cabinet. More like dropping them onto the counter.

"Did you even get my message?" Eames asked. "About her totem?"

"I don't have it—"

"Stop your bullshitting, Arthur. I may be an inane person, but this is serious. I know you have her totem. I'm a forger, not an idiot."

"Those two have no correlation," Arthur said as he handed Eames his coffee cup. He sat down across from his interrogator. Just add in a few dim lights, a freezing cold temperature, and walls that seemed to go on forever into an abyss, and the hotel room would be a police station.

"If I was to turn into you in a dream, I would feel like—no—_know_ that you were lying. That is what they have in common. Do you have any idea what you are doing to that poor girl?"

"You have no idea," Arthur said as he held his head in his hands. "You really have no idea what this is doing to _me_."

"Oh cry me a river," Eames said. Arthur glared at him. "Do continue." He took a sip of his coffee. "Do you have cream or sugar?"

"It's in there," Arthur said as he pointed to the refrigerator. Eames got up to fetch the add-ons.

"It's been more than two weeks, Arthur. She called me and told me that she still can't sleep well. She needs to her totem." He pulled out some cream and sugar and brought it back to the table. His silliness seemed to have been replaced by solemnity.

"She has to go without it—"

"She's not like us! She's new at this! When we first did this, we kept our totems at our side constantly." He added a little cream and sugar in his coffee while Arthur drank his black. A bittersweet aftertaste rested in his throat. "We learned that way. She, however, is new at this. She doesn't have years of experience under her belt like we do. You could have sent it to her! Or for Christ's sakes, you could've called her! Did you know that every time I talk to her, she asks me how you are doing?"

"I wish you didn't tell me that," Arthur muttered. His stomach was tying itself into a tight knot.

"It's been two weeks Arthur. She's not sleeping because of you."

"That can't be true—"

"If only you listen to her voice when she talks about you. When I bring you up, her tone switches to a voice of an angel, for Christ's sake. She almost sounds like she's going to break into a million little pieces."

"I'm such an idiot," Arthur said as he slapped his forehead.

"Indeed you are. That's what I've been saying all along."

"I should've just left her apartment when I was outside—"

Eames almost spat his hot coffee all over the place but managed to swallow it, probably burning his throat in the process. "Did you violate that sweet child?"

"What? NO!" Arthur snapped. "And she's not a child." He leaned back in his seat and was about to scream up at the sky. He was so tired. "She gave me her scarf."

"Aw, a token. How sweet."

"I'm serious, Eames. I don't want to go into detail, but nothing intimate happened. Just…."

"Hug her? Kiss her? What?"

"This is awkward."

"Hey, you're the one who's telling me all of this. I'm just the priest."

"That just made this conversation creepier."

"Confess, boy."

"Hug her," Arthur admitted. This is where he fell into Eames's plan of spilling everything. He might as well pull over the couch, lie down on it, give Eames a clipboard and start blabbing what was on his mind. But he remained calm, aware of what his friend had up his sleeve. "…More like hold her."

"Oh boy," Eames said gravely.

"I found her totem when I was at the airport." He was trying to driving the conversation away from their goodbyes. Eames would start making fun of him saying how soft he was. Once you get him started, he wouldn't shut up about it. Arthur didn't appear to be a gentle person. He intimidated more than come off as a teddy bear. "I couldn't miss my flight. I didn't have time—"

"I understand, mate, I really do."

"I can't go back to her—"

"Are you afraid that the same thing is going to happen to you that happened to Cobb? How Mal just showed up everywhere?"

"That's why business is difficult. I haven't been returning any of our company's calls. I'm just leaving it up to Cobb."

"It's okay to go to her."

"No, it's not. Your subconscious is what is projected in our dreams. Our deepest desires are exposed whether if it is an action or a job. Even if I wasn't getting anything extracted, she can be a weakness. If she died in a dream, I'd think it's the end of the world."

"How do you think she feels right now?"

"Like shit."

"Now, how do you think she'd feel if she heard you say that ridiculous statement about her being a weakness?"

"Shittier."

"Arthur, Ariadne is a strong girl. She's rather headstrong and brave. But you need to give her her totem back. You can at least be courteous enough to return it." Eames pulled out his totem which was a poker chip. He held it up to Arthur who stared at it with wide eyes. "This is what keeps us sane. To this day, I use it every once in a while." The poker chip was placed back in the dark pocket of his pants. "Once you have your totem, it's hard to try and make another one. Although dreams may not seem important to, oh let's say, the inn keeper downstairs, they're important to _us_. We know what our minds are capable of. From what we've seen, it's a scary sight. I'd be terrified myself if I was in her spot. It's not only the idea of what's reality and what isn't, but it's also the sight of seeing _what _and _who _we can manipulate. It shows what terrible little monsters we can be, and how we can break into someone's dream and change them just because they went to sleep."

Arthur and Eames stared at each other for a long time. The coffee aroma filled the whole suite. What could he say back to _that_?

"That was probably the most insightful and useful thing I've ever heard you say," Arthur complimented.

"Your appreciation is always accepted in my book, Arthur. I wish I could document you on tape saying that…I don't think I'll ever hear that again."

Arthur had to smile. Although the man sitting across from him can be childish, he somehow managed to make Arthur smile or laugh. It was his light humor that brightened up the room.

"Give her a call, man," Eames said as he finished off his coffee. "At least tell her. Let her get a good twenty minute nap in."

"That's not a good idea."

"I really don't know what she sees in you." This seemed to perk Arthur's interest. He gave Eames a confused look. "You're kind of a bore, until you get mad, of course. Then we see your true colors."

"What else?" He felt like a little school girl who was gossiping about who liked who. How immature of him. Eames's childishness was rubbing off on him. This man had been in Arthur's presence for too long. Maybe it was because he didn't get enough sleep that he was acting this way. It was scaring him.

"Believe it or not, the lass doesn't say much about you. It's more of broken sentences. Incomplete thoughts. However, it looks like you two had a closer relationship than you thought."

"I don't even know what it is."

"She's a brilliant, creative, honest and curious girl. She allows her subconscious to open up fully to you. All of the components to make a perfect dreamer. She has what you're lacking. That is why you like her."

"Are you saying that I'm not a dreamer?"

"Don't get me wrong, you build beautiful hotels and office buildings, but she can create a world inside your own if you let her."

What Ariadne does to him not only makes his head swim around in the middle of the ocean, but she reopens his eyes to the creativity that he lost. Never had he'd seen such beautiful imagination before. She crafts her layouts like they were her own children, making sure that she sets the scene right. He'd seen her so many times walk around in the dream world; her eyes would be wide and full of exhilaration as she took everything in. She would ask him so many questions of how everything would work, but she asked so many at one time, eager to learn about the subconscious. She wanted to know everything and yet let her imagination wander.

"She has a beautiful mind," Arthur said quietly. He was staring at his coffee that looked like a bottomless pit, also known as his soul. His dreams have never been so haunted and empty. He knew he didn't need his totem, because he has never felt so much pain before. Reality couldn't torture him the way his own mind did.

"That she does. And if you go to her, you can share that beauty with her. It'd make both of you happy. Don't do this to yourself, Arthur. Have some common sense. You may control your dreams well, but your emotions are the part of you that you will never be able to control completely. The mind is very complex, but it's easy to break down until it's broken beyond repair."

Arthur tilted back in his chair, balancing perfectly on the two back legs. He had perfected the art of leaning back in a chair. He watched for Eames's foot.

"She must hate me," he muttered. He reached for his coffee cup carefully so he wouldn't fall from his chair.

"She's more disappointed."

"Are you just saying that to make me feel even worse?"

"…No."

"Goddamn it."

Eames reached in his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He put it in the center of the table and the two of them stared at it, like it was ready to disappear any second and they had to keep an eye on it.

"Call her," Eames demanded. Arthur was back on all fours with the chair and kept his eye on the phone. "Or I won't leave."

Arthur got up and went into his room. He grabbed his phone off of his nightstand and brought it back in the kitchen. He plopped back down in his chair and took Eames's phone.

"Your Blackberry sucks," Arthur said. "It likes to glitch."

"Yeah, I know. I'm going to be sending it to the company next week."

Arthur scrolled through his phone book, seeing that there were many women's names that started with 'A' before he actually reached Ariadne's name. He transferred her number from the Blackberry to his regular flip phone. When he was done, he returned Eames's phone to him.

"…Well?" Eames said. "Are you going to tell her that you have her totem?"

"I'm not going to talk to her while you're here."

"Okay, okay. I guess I've overstayed my welcome," Eames said as he got up from his seat.

"You overstayed the moment you walked in the door."

"You're just cranky—"

"Don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out."

"Thanks for the coffee, mate."

"No problem."

They shook hands and Arthur said, "Thank you." Eames stared at him with wide eyes. "Please don't cry on me."

"Oh, sorry, but I've never seen you this pleasant. It brings a tear to my eye!" he said with a hint of playful sarcasm. "Good luck. Call me if you need me. Or actually pick up your phone, damn it."

"And that is when God is on my side."

"Touché. Goodbye, my dear friend. I shall see you sometime in the future."

"Yeah, don't let the Scottish exile you from here; you've been here too long. See you later."

And with that, Eames walked out, leaving Arthur with his phone, and his phone's new number. The scent of coffee still lingered in the room. He couldn't call her when he was in this state of mind. He needed to shower of the guiltiness of still having her totem. He tilted in his chair and stared at her number. He could recall the detail in her apartment, from the jade green walls to the couch that looked like it was in her house when she was a kid. His foot slipped from the edge of the table that was keeping him afloat and he fell backwards onto the floor.

"Oww!" he said aloud. That was his own personal kick. But he didn't know what kind of kick it was:

One to wake him up.

Or a kick in the ass.

* * *

Because Ariadne is with Arthur (even though Arthur is my favorite character), I would totally not mind having Eames! (Tom Hardy...yummy).

Anyway, because people asked me to update, I did. I know, I know, Eames seems way to immature, but I found him rather amusing. It's fun to pick on Arthur. I found this chapter to be fun. And if you don't get the Scotland and Britain thing...read _Through the Looking Glass_, that's where I understood the reference, and giggled at it.

I had actually looked up sleep paralysis from my psych notes and online, and some people said that they kind of hallucinate. So that is a fact.

Speaking of Scotland, I am leaving for Scotland for two weeks, so I won't be updating, but I will be writing on the airplane, because it's a 9-10 hour flight.

AND THANK YOU TO FAIRSCHILD ON LIVEJOURNAL FOR YOUR WONDERFUL ARIADNExARTHUR FANMIX! I LOVE IT!

Personally, if Eames showed up at my door-!  
Maybe you wouldn't want to hear what I'd do with him...;)

Peace out, boy/girl scouts,

DivineRose2392

P.S. Uncle Eames...(giggle snort)


	3. Dreaming of Red Phone Booths

Ariadne ran up the flight of stairs with an anxious feel streaming under her skin. She reached the third floor landing and paused in front of the giant metal door. The handle was gave her an unwelcoming feeling but she turned it anyway. Frigid air brushed her cheeks as she entered the workshop. Everything was still the same; no one had bothered to put away their plans. The giant steno pad still sat on the easel that displayed their sketches and plots to access Fischer's subconscious. Her 3D models remained standing up and flooded her mind her rain, hotel rooms, snow and a leap of faith. The variety of chairs was grouped up in a circle, her lawn chair next to Arthur's metal office chair.

She rounded the corner and found the lone desk that Cobb once sat at to dive into his locked up memories. Her mouth felt dry and her curiosity was pushing her to a watering hole. Sitting on the top was the metal suitcase that was left behind by him, hoping that he would never have to use it again to see Mal.

As her fingers made contact with the metal, the coldness from it pricked and prodded at her skin. Fighting the desire to open the case against an imaginary pain, she flipped open the suitcase and saw the whole set up. The set up that had changed her life forever. The IVs and the timer were ready for use. Without hesitation or a second thought, she picked up the brief case and brought it over to her lawn chair. She placed it on the small, round side table that sat between her and Arthur's seat.

She set her down in her spot, letting her bag rest on the concrete ground. Her heart was beating normally but her mind was racing faster than she could act. She grabbed the butterfly IV and placed it in her wrist wincing at the pinch. Just as she was about to press the button to start the dream process, she looked over at Arthur's seat and felt as if time had froze. This would pain him to witness her do this. She even said it herself that it was a dangerous task. But now she was contradicting her words, throwing them away. Her old totem was gone, probably forever.

It had been two since she had last heard from Eames. He hasn't returned her call yet. Over the week span, she actually started to not care anymore.

She held up her left hand and examined her middle finger where a silver ring with a Celtic design weaved throughout the band. She had the feeling to back out but she had the desire to go. Her mind was already set on her motive.

Reality was too much for her to bear at the moment. She was being drowned in her same routine day after day. There was a spur of creativity that refusing to be locked up in the back of her mind. She placed her hand over the red button in the brief case.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," she whispered.

She pushed the red button and closed her eyes against her will.

0-0-0

"Four pounds and thirty-five pence, please," the cashier told him. She eyed him impatiently while Arthur pulled out for pound coins and fished out the pence. The cashier exchanged his money for his purchase of a cup of coffee, the daily newspaper and a croissant. It was the most expensive breakfast he'd ever bought. "Cheers, love."

"Yeah, cheers," Arthur muttered. He exited the café and walked up the Royal Mile with his cup of coffee in one hand, newspaper under his free arm while holding his croissant in his other hand. The air was brisk that morning but continued to chill his face to the point where his nose felt like it no longer existed.

He still hadn't called her. He'd lost track of how long it's been since he had his wake up visit from Eames. A month, maybe? He didn't know. He carried her totem with him in his pocket, wrapped up in scarf, reminding himself that he still had to commit to his promise. It was pointless to give her totem back now. He'd already touched it, felt the weight of it and basically traveled with it. He was sleeping too well, and would wake up with paralysis on occasions. His dreams were getting too out of hand for him. The sense of guilt put pressure on his chest to the point where he couldn't breathe. It would stir him from his rest and then he couldn't fall back to sleep.

Mornings to him were a gift rather than a punishment.

Arthur trekked up the steep climb while sipping his hot coffee on the way. It was his only source of warmth that was useful against the frigid air. He passed by lovely Scottish women, some of them with beautiful red hair and vibrant blue eyes, or women with dark brown hair and green eyes. None of them brown like Ariadne's. Nothing could compare to hers.

He caught the bus just before it left, running his bus card over the scanner before setting down in the front by the window. Women seemed to be attracted to him a lot more than ever before. All of them were glancing at him, doing second takes, and whispering to their friend sitting beside them. He heard quiet giggles. It went on like this for twenty minutes. Was it the fact that he looked like a sharp dressed man? Tan slacks, a white button down, shiny black shoes and a black jacket. It was his average style and he couldn't figure out why what makes today's appearance any different? Reading the paper didn't distract him enough.

Now was a good time to just walk to his destination.

He pressed the red stop button on one of the poles. The bus driver pulled up to the next stop and Arthur got off quickly. He strolled through a small neighborhood that had neat gardens with rich colored roses that grew tall but were trimmed. Irons gates were a common trend among the townhouses, where the neighbors would stand on either side and have their daily conversation. The neighborhood felt secure. This was design that he could've probably designed himself. It was simple and orderly but had a twist of life in it.

He found the community park down the road where mothers with their children played about. He spotted an old couple taking what appeared to be their routine walk. The older man held his wife's hand tight and had enough patience as he moved at the same slow pace as she did. She looked at him and smiled, loving every minute of it. Arthur glanced away from them before he started to create ideal situations surrounding his own interests.

He parked himself on a wooden bench and started to eat his breakfast while reading the paper. Halfway through his deep reading, he felt a ball hit his foot. He looked down and saw a medium size, red, rubber ball sitting at his feet. He picked it up and set his newspaper aside. When his attention turned forward he saw a little girl with long, dark brown hair that was like a silk wave and giant, chocolate brown eyes that were glossy and enchanting. She had naturally dark pink lips, rosy cheeks and pale skin. A typical physical development for a child to have those features, but he couldn't understand why she stood out to him.

"Excuse me, sir," she said, "may I have me ball back, please?" Her Scottish accent made her sound angelic.

"Sure," Arthur said as he placed the ball in her tiny hands. He expected her to run along but she continued to stare at him with her giant eyes.

"What are ye doin'?" she asked him.

"Reading the paper and having a cup of coffee."

"Are ya all by yerself?"

"Yes I am," he answered. This was making him feel uncomfortable but he couldn't just shove her away. She was a child. Children rationalize everything or argue until the adult would become tired of it all. The girl narrowed her eyebrows and scrunched up her nose in confusion.

"Why are ya all alone?" she asked him. She clutched the ball to her green jacket and waited for his reply. He had to come up with an answer. It felt like he was talking to Eames, except he was talking to someone who wouldn't bust his chops.

"I'm…on a…." The next few words just slipped out from his lips. "Business trip."

"Oh," she said with a smile.

"Where's your mom, little girl?"

"Me mum is over there," she said as she pointed across the other side of the park. She was eyeing something in his pocket. "What's that?" She was talking about the scarf that was peaking out from his pocket. He sighed and pulled it out to show her it.

"This was a gift."

"From who?"

He stared at her for a long time as she traced the floral print with her eyes, mesmerized by the design.

"By a very special girl," he said.

"What's she like?" This little girl was actually interest in Arthur's life. He decided to tell her, for he had a feeling that she wasn't going to remember him in the long run.

"She's a beautiful girl with hair like yours," he described, trying to recap her physical appearance in the deep parts of his imagination. He began to play with Ariadne's scarf, careful enough to not expose the chess piece. "She's able to take you places that were…_magical_."

"Like a castle?"

Arthur smiled and said, "Yeah. Like a castle. She creates mountains, cities, and oceans."

"Did she take you to those places?"

"Oh yes. I felt like I was dreaming, because they were so fairytale-like." He was trying to shrink his vocabulary for her so that she would understand. He was afraid that she wasn't getting any of his words, but with the look in her eyes, he could tell that she was fantasizing about some mythical universe. "She has quite the imagination. She's able to build dream upon dreams." He looked aside at the perfectly gardened flowers to his right. "She has a beautiful mind."

"Where is she now?"

"She's home…probably dreaming up a world," he said with a grin. He looked back at the girl who was frowning at him.

"Are ya goin' to see her again?"

"Hopefully. I promised her that I would give her something back."

"Her scarf?"

"Yeah," he said, not wanting to take out her totem. "Her scarf."

"But I thought it was a gift?"

"Well," Arthur said, trying to come up with some excuse, "she gave it to me and told me that when I see her again, I will give her back her scarf. That way, she knows that I will return to her. She also gave me this—" He paused and glanced over the floral pattern. His felt the pain in his chest swell up. He couldn't understand why he was attached to her. She was his coworker and he had wished it stayed that way. But the desire for her drowned out the professional aspect of their job. Secretly, he wanted to be with her on a personal level and his subconscious at night projected it right in his face. "To remind me that she is always with me wherever I go."

The little girl has wide eyes and they were stained with sadness and wonder. She couldn't be more than seven or eight years old but she was able to comprehend what he was saying.

"Do ya love her?" she asked. Arthur tilted his head to the side and pretended to ponder on the question.

"Why do you ask me that?"

"'Cause she loves you."

"How do you know?" he chuckled. The little girl giggled and seemed excited to converse with him on this matter. But Arthur wanted her response. He was curious to what her answer was going to be. She looked up at the sky and sorted through her thoughts to craft her statement. Arthur waited with a smile on his face, appreciating her effort to cheer him up.

"When me papa goes away for work, me mum always tells him to wear this necklace with a ring on it to remind him that she's always home waitin' for him. He wears it because he says they love each other very much."

"Is that so?"

"Mmhm. Yer special lady wouldn't just give it to you without a reason, ya know."

"Bri!" called a female voice. The little girl turned around to see her mother. She waved at her and then looked at Arthur. "Come on, darling. We have to get going!"

"Oh, that's me mum. I have to be goin' now. Thanks for giving me ball back." She was about to run when she stopped herself and looked him square in the eye. "So, do ya love her?"

"Bri! Darling, let's go!" her mother called.

Arthur didn't know how to respond to that. It was either a yes or no answer, but throwing the word 'love' around was like letting Eames loose with a millions of dollars in Las Vegas and never seeing him again. He rubbed the scarf's material between his fingers.

"I still have her scarf, don't I?" he asked. Bri gave him a wide smile with a starry look in her eyes before running off to her mother. He watched her walk away with her mother, as her mother carried the red ball under one arm, and held Bri's hand with her free one. Arthur rose from his seat on the bench and tossed out all of his morning contents that he bought for an unreasonable price. He stored Ariadne's scarf back in his pocket and started to make his way back to his hotel.

He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through his address book. He was praying for the voicemail to pick up and then he was praying that she would answer. Ariadne's voicemail came on, but only made it half way through when the line picked up.

"Hello?" Ariadne said. Arthur smiled slightly, happy to hear her voice.

"Hey there," he said as calmly as possible. There was silence from the other end that lasted what felt like years.

"Arthur?" her voice came out in a squeak.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Wow," she laughed. She was at loss for words. Her sentences were broken up into run offs and incomplete words. Arthur just chuckled. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine. Nothing exciting," he lied. "How about you?"

"I can't really say. There are many mixed emotions but I guess…." Ariadne sighed and her tone suddenly went from happy to agitated. "I guess I'm okay."

"Sounds like okay is the wrong word to use." Arthur skipped over his sweet tone and switched to a concerned one. He didn't want to fool around with some bullshit lie, which made him feel like a hypocrite. "What's wrong, Ariadne?"

"I guess I'll skip over the sugar coated lies that I was going to throw at you," she admitted. "I'm dreaming again, but it's not what you think it is."

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the sidewalk. Ire flared in his torso instantaneously. He wasn't mad at her directly but furious at the addiction that the 'dreaming' experience put on her. He had to ask the question that would add more to the fire.

"Why?" he asked as he continued to walk. His pace was faster than before to get rid of his frustration.

"Why else, Arthur?" she countered. "You weren't here to stop me."

"You're very selfish, Ariadne. I wouldn't have expect this from you—"

"Selfish?" she asked, giving a surprised laugh. "No, I'm not the one who's selfish, Arthur. Don't treat me like I'm a four year old."

"You and I both know that this isn't a smart decision."

"You're just afraid—"

"You're goddamn right I'm afraid," he growled. "I've seen this happen once. Are you really going to—?"

"I am _not _going to end up like Cobb!" she shouted at him. "My life is completely different from his. Don't compare me to that. You have _no idea _what I'm feeling. And let me tell you, Arthur, I never get upset." Her last line was like a whiplash to his back. But then her voice came down in a whisper, almost like she was about to cry. "You have no idea what you've done to me."

"Jesus Christ," Arthur muttered. He softened up his voice. "Ariadne—"

"I didn't hear from you for months," she said, "and on top of that, I have no idea where the hell my totem went. I just don't know how you could leave someone like _that_ and never bother to even explain!"

"Ariadne, it's difficult to explain," Arthur said.

"No, Arthur, it's the old, tiresome bullshit—!"

_Did she just say bullshit? _he thought.

"—excuse! Why do you assume that that's what needs to happen?"

Arthur glanced up at the sky to see Scotland's daily down pour was going to happen any moment. He scoffed at it and picked up his pace. "It wasn't my initial intention for any of this to happen," he said. "You're right, I am scared. I'm not going to deny it. With this type of job, though, it can screw us over. Our minds are not safe, nor are our feelings. They interfere with the extraction."

"It was really _stupid_ of you. It's _selfish_. I'm sick of the idea that something dangerous must separate people because it's for the best. The best of what? It just screws up the person even more. I'd rather have my head blown off in a dream than keep struggling along with this ridiculous concept. There is a difference of letting go of someone to pick up and move on; compared to letting go of someone you care about. It does nothing but dig a deeper hole for the both of us and that is, supposedly, the best solution?"

Arthur felt a rain drop hit his head, then his arm, then his shoe. Timed with a crack of lightning and thunder, it started to rain heavily. He saw a red phone booth up ahead and sprinted towards it. He felt claustrophobic in it but it kept him out of the rain.

"I know," he said as he leaned against the glass side of the booth.

"You know it, but you did it anyway."

"You knew it was dangerous to dream, but you're still doing it."

"I'm using it for other purposes—"

"Oh really? What purpose? To create a world where your desires become reality so it abolishes what you're going through now?"

"You would've done the same exact thing, you bastard," she growled at him. He heard her sniffle to try and control her tears; he banged his head on the glass pane. "And as much as I wanted to, I didn't go that route. No one is a part of my dreams. It's just me and my design."

"Wait, what?" he asked in an alarm tone. Ariadne took a deep breath to gather herself.

"I've been working on a design for weeks now. I haven't included the projections yet. When I lost my totem, I couldn't sleep at all. At one point, I just broke down. I couldn't handle it, Arthur. I had to offset it by balancing out what was real and what was my own imagination. I had to go back. I didn't care about what I was doing anymore. I was tempted to use it for all the wrong and obvious reasons, but I couldn't. I knew you wouldn't approve." She laughed quietly. Arthur felt like he should go up on one of the high Scottish mountains and jump off. "Even though it's not done yet, you would like this design. I think you would be proud."

"Ariadne," Arthur sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Which part are you sorry for?"

"I don't mean to get mad at you. A lot of it is my fault. Shit…I've been under a lot of stress lately. I might as well tell you it now while I'm on the phone."

"Tell me what?"

He pulled out her scarf and opened it in his palm while sandwiching his phone between his shoulder and ear. There sat her chess piece.

"I have your totem."

There was a long string of silence on the other end, and he thought for a moment that she hung up.

"You had it all this time?"

"It was in the backseat of the car. It must've fell out of you bag. I've been meaning to mail it back but…." He trailed off, too embarrassed to admit that he couldn't let go of it. "It would've been no use to you anyway since I touched it. But I thought you should know that I've had it all along. I didn't mean for any harm or emotional distress to happen upon you. I understand what this is doing to you and I hate myself everyday for leaving and for not calling. I'd rather die in my sleep than continue to dream what I've been dreaming for the past few months."

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Who else am I going to tell this to? Cobb just got over his wife and Eames…you know how he is. This isn't exactly an issue that men talk about."

"Yeah, I know."

"And you're a smart girl who actually understands what I'm going through without giving me the crappy psychoanalytical rundown. A psychiatrist wouldn't believe me, so that option is blown out of the water. Trying to explain a psychological phenomenon to someone like that is a one way ticket to the institution."

"What happened to the business man attitude?" she asked. "Are you sure that I'm talking to the same Arthur that was my coworker?"

"I'm not a business man. I'm a point man. I _do _have feelings, you know. The fear of them getting in the way of my line of work is on a higher level than the extraction itself. I care about getting out alive, and only take a bullet when I'm supposed to. That's my job. What I didn't see coming was Cobb throwing you at me and expected me to teach you how to dream when I don't even know how to construct a dream openly."

"You're dreams didn't seem so bad when you were teaching me."

"I was _teaching_ you. That's not the point, though. I just want you to understand that this is not a job for everyone. We need strong people. I constructed my subconscious to be horrible when the structure starts to change. Any ounce of distraction or interest could bring down the whole mission. It happened to Cobb and I didn't want it to happen to me."

"What would've happened if we all came back together for another mission? Huh? What would happen, then?"

"If it was a mission, then I'd probably be more focused on that and so would you. Don't try to rationalize that one there, because it's not going to work with me."

"Dreams can be good, too. It's your mind, Arthur. If you can wield a gun blindly, then you at least have the open option to control what goes on in your subconscious. You told me yourself that you lucid dream."

"Teaching me how to dream, huh?" he asked amusingly. He heard her laugh quietly. He felt relieve to hear that than her crying. He had to smile at himself for actually making her happy again. Where's a pat on the back when he needs one? "Ariadne."

"Yeah?"

"Please, be careful. Don't…don't get carried away."

"I'll promise not to. You should…come and see it one day. I could use an expert's opinion."

"You're dreams are always brilliantly illustrated."

"I'm hearing many sides of you today," she joked. "I have to get ready for class. Hopefully, I'll talk to you soon?"

"Yeah," he said, thinking of another answer. "You will."

"Okay…well—"

"Ariadne?"

"What?"

"I'll see you. I don't know when, but I will."

"Thank you," she whispered. She then hung up. Arthur stuck his cellphone back in his pocket and exited the phone booth. The rain had lightened up, making the walk more enjoyable. As he went down hill, he saw out of the corner of his eye a small shop. It was brightly lit with a display of plaid sweaters and scarves that were made of pure cashmere. He smiled at it and headed for the entrance.

* * *

There are two choices among three that you are allowed to pick while in college: Sleep, Social Life, School  
Sleep is definitely one of them, because then I can have inceptions of my own (hurhur) and School, because I am not going to waste my parents' money away for nothing. Social life would be nice, but then again I sometimes find myself to not be a people person, because I can't stand some. So what am I trying to say?:  
Fanfiction = Social Life.

Sorry.

Moving along,

**Read this** and it may clear up or explain my logic while writing this. And if you disagree and don't care, then...whatevs.  
I have forgotten their personalities, to be honest. I know that sounds stupid, but because I was away in another country for two weeks (Scotland is a beautiful country, btw. I _loved _it) and then had to move into my dorm two days later that was two hours from home with MAJOR jet lag, then your brain is practically mush.  
Oh my God, cliche time if you didn't see this one: Bri is supposed to be a parallel of Ariadne. (sarcasm) Who the hell didn't see that one coming? (/sarcasm).  
You don't know what these two are like by themselves or off of the job, so you can't exactly say, "Arthur wouldn't talk to children". Personally, I thought it was cute and because I enjoy Scottish accents going through my head.  
Why is Ariadne acting like a whiny bitch? Okay, you and I both know that you or I would be pissed if someone left you with confusing feelings and doesn't bother to even communicate, and then WHAM! Phone call with just a "Hey...sup?"  
Yeah, yeah, you're saying, "Wow, they got into an argument fast and it's not like them." I wanted to skip the, "Oh, hey, how are you doing?" crap, because it's nothing but a filler.

Personally, I am making fun of myself and other stories that have the whole, "We cannot be together because it's too dangerous!" I am not going to name any stories or books (coughtwilightcough) (sorry), because that would seem rude, and on top of that, I am ADMITTING that I have written stuff like that, and I look back and say, "Eww." So I wanted to express my feelings towards that subject by Ariadne (I love you, Ellen Page!) telling Arthur about it. Because we all know it's so true. These two were meant for each other, hence why I am writing this cliche crap.  
If you're saying, "I am so f#$ing confused in why and what they're saying", then let me explain. You know how when you get all mad or upset and you just spew out the truth? Or just ramble random crap? I didn't want them to saying, "OMFG I LOVE YOU!" because that's not their style. And I'm not saying that they aren't in love, but as I said, throwing the word love around is like letting Eames loose with a million dollars in Las Vegas and never seeing him again. Like the spinning top reminded Cobb of Mal, I wanted Ariadne's belongings to reminds him that he is missing out on someone who is just so friggin' awesome. I would say that they deeply** care** for each other and they can relate on the subject of dreams, because you're not going to find many people like that. It's like two people coming together because they both of have ESP and they can understand what presence or energy (whatever the hell you want to call it) is around them. Aww, how cute. But dreams are badass-ier (hell yeah, I just made that into a word!)

And come on: you can't expect them to just reunite without a fight. I didn't want them to do it in person, because then I would've been tempted to write them some how ending up in some angry sex situation. Admit it: that shit rules today's romance stories. And I don't feel like exposing them to that subject...(yet ;D)  
Why is Arthur's POV's so long?: Because the next part in Ariadne's POV is going to be very long. Trust me, it's going to make up for Arthur's long story telling. And if you couldn't guess, Ariadne's new totem is her ring. I was looking around my apartment-style dorm, wondering what I could give her, and then when I saw my Celtic style ring, I was like, "Surrrre, let's go with this." Next chapter will explain further detail into that.  
While looking back on the movie, Arthur is a badass (of course), but I visioned him to have a rather haunting subconscious/projections, making a parallel to Cobb's experience with Mal, but Arthur would've learned from that. Again, a lot of Inception was in Cobb's POV, not really Arthur's mind, so we can't really say how he thinks.  
I feel disappointed with myself for putting so much dialogue. But there's so many action parts until it gets repetitive, and I don't know about you, but when I read, I kinda end up skimming some parts, because it explains the same emotion or action over and over. You should read this as if you were Italian. What do I mean by that? We Italians like to talk with our hands and make facial expressions while no one is around or the other person can't see us. We all do it: we point to things while we're on the phone with our bud like they can see through the friggin' phone. Basically, Ariadne is pissed. Arthur is frustrated with his inner emotions. Done.

I feel like I am forgetting something else...but now I realized why I even bothered to write this long author's note because I bet that I am still going to get those reviewers who fight with me and my logic. Criticism I will take, (and I want to go back and look at my reviews page to say thank you to the one review who pointed out the totem thing. I think it was Alice-something, but I'm too lazy to). But bashing, I will not. This is Fanfiction after all. This is more of my playground than it is my career. So I shouldn't take things too seriously.

Anyway, next chapter should be out...when I find the time. The title Airplanes will actually fold back into the story. Next chapter will be better, I promise. I just had to get this whole scene out of the way.

I will come back and edit this later. I kind of want to sleep and my roommate is going to get mad at me, because my keys on my laptop's keyboard are apparently really loud, but I can't hear it, because I have headphones on play my AxA fanmix. (Sorry, Brooke, but this is payback for your constant singing of musicals).

Cheers!  
**DivineRose2392**

(Now trying to read this like the guy who does Zero Punctuation videos. That's how I imagined myself speaking when writing this). **  
**


	4. Godspeed

Ariadne's hand looked like it had died; her thoughts on paper had stopped in mid sentence. She wasn't aware that class was over until she saw her fellow classmates pack up their belongings. Since her phone call with Arthur that she had three weeks ago, she could hardly sleep. The thought of him telling her that his subconscious was a factor made her dreams restless. She couldn't see him being a violent person towards her but her dreams painted a clear picture for her.

"Ariadne," Professor Miles said as the other students filed out. "Come here."

"Okay," she said as she stuffed her notebook in her messenger bag. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her eyes. She was surprised to even have made it through the class without taking a brief nap. But then again, her newly cut side bangs hung low over her eyes when she bent her head down acting as a cover up or blindfold. A few of her classmates had asked her what was with the change of hair. With the addition to the bangs, she got a light trim to get rife of the split ends. She would shrug at them and tell them that it gave her a new edge. "What's up?" As soon as she approached his desk, he reached in one of his desk drawers and pulled out a red tulip. Ariadne felt her cheeks heat up. This wasn't what she was expecting. She had no idea how to react to that. "Oh, Professor, I'm flattered but-"

"It's not from me!" Professor Miles objected. He held it out to her and she took it. "Someone gave it to a student who claimed that it wasn't from him. But it was addressed to you."

"So you don't know who this is from?" she asked as she accepted the tulip.

"No, I don't, but whoever wanted you to have it really is a charmer."

"Why do you say that?"

"Let me ask you this: should love have thorns it in like roses do?"

"Is that a hypothetical question?"

"What do you think?"

"Well, no, love should be pretty easy. It shouldn't prick anyone with thorns."

"Ah, now we are getting somewhere. Roses, to me, can be very misleading. They lure the young lady in and then deceive them in many ways. But a tulip has no thorns and they are very difficult to find, believe it or not. Holland, at one point, banned exporting tulips out of the country because they were so valuable. Whoever gave you this knows their flowers well and is very much in love with you."

Ariadne was thinking of the students that are biology majors. But no one crossed her mind that showed her any affection like that.

"Oh, and before I forget," Professor Miles added. He reached down into the same drawer and pulled out an envelope. Ariadne took it from his hands and examined it. No address. No name. Just a blank envelope with a piece of paper inside. "That came with the flower."

"Thanks, Professor," she said dazedly. Without even saying goodbye, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room. She stood outside and classroom against the hall's wall; she caught the small opening on the corner of the envelope and tore it open carefully without getting any paper cuts. She took a deep breath before pulling out the piece of paper. It was the size of a sticky note.

Ariadne's heart stopped in mid beat for what felt like hours until it went from zero to beyond the normal heart rate in less than a second. There on the piece of paper was a picture of a die.

"Oh my God," she whispered. Students that were walking past her gave her a concerned look. She walked as fast as she could out of the building. She rushed past the crowd of people to the exit. Once outside, she scanned the courtyard but didn't see him anywhere. "Patience…he's here…somewhere." She made it look like she was heading for her way home, instead of surveying the yard for a man who she hoped was in some type of suit or sharp attire. However, she was let down when she didn't see him anywhere. With disappointment weighing in her throat, she now started to make her way home.

Her eyes were attracted to the ground, but her hair was attached to her face because of the wind. She lifted her head to pull back her hair, when she saw a slender, tall man leaning against the wall of the arch way, dressed in a powdered blue collared shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows; his legs were covered in black dress pants and his feet sported a pair of shined up black shoes. His hair appeared to be a tad bit longer than from what she remembered, but it was combed back neatly, not a single hair out of place. The only feature that was different was the fact that he hadn't shaved yet. His facial hair wasn't overgrown; in fact, it made him look older and it worked on his face.

Ariadne's heart started to pick up again, but she hid her excitement as best as she could. It wasn't being hidden well for she walked faster towards him. He gave her a crooked smile at first, but then flashed his pearly whites at her. People who were passing by caught a hold of Ariadne's excitement. Some of them paused to watch her walk up to the stranger; Arthur seemed to have noticed the observers as well, but his eyes were only on her. It felt like the airport all over again but he wasn't going to fly away.

With a walk that felt like miles, she finally reached him. No hugs or hellos. She was too speechless and numb to even greet him. She didn't want to spoil the good moment by causing a scene. Unlike the many romantic movies where they run to each other and embrace, this wasn't the case with Arthur. She didn't know how to approach this man correctly without saying a Freudian slip. All she could do was smile. Arthur just nudged his head towards the exit and she nodded.

They walked side by side all the way to the street where he had parked. Her phone vibrated in her pocket as an incoming text message settled in her inbox. She went to the message and found it was from one of her classmates that was asking her-in caps-if Arthur was her boyfriend.

She didn't respond back.

She didn't have to.

It was only her and his business. Just between them.

No extractions. No designs. No fear of messing up a mission. It was now personal, like it should've been right after Fischer's extraction.

Out of the corner of her eye, she observed Arthur. He looked drained and she wasn't sure if it was a good idea for him to drive. Being the gentleman that he was, he opened the passenger's door for her. She smiled at him and slid onto the leather seat. It looked very similar to the rental car he had when they left the airport. The leather was tan instead of black and the seats were heated.

Seat warmers. He went all out.

Arthur got into the driver's seat and closed his door.

Ariadne curled up in her seat, clutching her bag and the tulip he gave her to her chest. "Thank you," she said. He glanced at her as he placed the keys in the ignition.

"You're welcome," he said as he started the car. He sat back in his seat and placed his hands on the wheel. "Where to, Miss?"

"You're the driver. It's your choice."

"I believe I know what you want to do," he said as he put the car in drive. Ariadne put her seat belt on and felt a warm chill go down her spine. The tulip's petals were cool and smooth under her fingertips.

"This is very pretty," she said. "Why a tulip?"

"It was something different," Arthur said with a shrug. "I thought that a tulip would suit you better than a rose."

Ariadne laughed and said, "You're right: it is something different." It wasn't the cheap, romantic affection that was portrayed. If he wasn't already a gentleman by nature, she would've thought otherwise.

She looked in the side mirror and saw that her hair was a mess. Trying to pull back her hair without being obviously embarrassed and caring, she causally combed her hair with her fingers to smooth out the tangles, and then pulled it back into a loose but messy ponytail. When the elastic made its snapping sound with the last turn, Arthur gave her a sideways glance and then darted his eyes back to the road.

"You got your hair cut," he noted as he stopped at a stop light.

"It's just a little change. I'm surprised you even recognized me on campus."

"Your face is unforgettable," he muttered. Ariadne wished she could control her blushing. She wondered how his cheeks wouldn't even show any redness, let alone a tint of rose. "I had to think of some changes that may happen during our time apart. But I like it; it looks nice."

"T-thank you."

"Other than that, by the looks of it, it seems that you haven't changed."

"I would say the same thing about you," Ariadne said as she examined his face once more. Arthur chuckled and shook his head.

"I didn't have time," he said as he rubbed his chin. It made a light scratching noise that sent goosebumps along her arms. "It was either shave or miss my flight."

"I kinda like it. It makes you look less…threatening."

"Really? I'm threatening?"

"Arthur, if only you see the looks people give you when you're walking down the street. You don't exactly have the most relaxed face expression."

"Do you think I'm a threatening person?" He punched the pedal and they continued on their way to God knows where.

"No. They don't know you-"

"Exactly. So that gives me a reason not to care."

"But I don't know you either," she muttered. "I mean, I know you, but I don't know you well enough." Arthur was silent for a minute. She was hoping that he was concentrating on the road and not pondering a thought. He made a few more turns and stopped at another light before speaking.

"Honestly, no one knows me well enough. Not Cobb. Not even Eames. Although the two of us have what he calls 'marriage battle', he doesn't know what goes on in my head. He is one of my close friends, but he's never been in my subconscious completely. No one has."

"I don't understand what you're saying. What do you mean by 'completely'?"

"No one has ever preformed a successful extraction on me. We usually do that when we first get the team together, but because we were pressed for time, we didn't want to do it to you. Plus, Cobb just wanted to explain the basics and I was there to only teach you the rest-"

"Paradox, construction-part two of basics."

"Right," Arthur said with a light chuckle. His tone shifted back to a serious one quickly as he pressed on the gas pedal to go through the green light. "We did it to get to know one another. It was so that we could understand one another and also understand where the designs came from as well as the subconscious. My projections are a lot different from Cobb's, Eames's and yours. They are dressed differently and have their own personalities. They are a part of you, whether you want them to be or not. We all did this way before Mal had passed on. They tried to get me to open up, but my subconscious was so afraid of what they may steal, that they literally tore them apart. It was very rare when I was the dreamer."

"But when we were in your dream during Fischer's extraction, your subconscious seemed okay. They were also mixed in with some of his as well."

"Doesn't matter. My projections outnumbered his because it was my dream. You saw how they got out of control quickly and they started to hunt me down. It's tough to kill your own projections-"

"That explains Cobb's situation."

"And maybe because Mal was his wife."

"I know that."

"That's why I never specialized in extractions. I would be afraid to let something slip. Which is why I was stuck as the point man: I do the dirty work to let the extractor get by."

"You don't have to answer this," Ariadne said, suddenly feeling very edgy, "but did something happen to you that made you the way you are?"

"No, not really. I grew up in a wonderful household. Got a great education. Had a few relationships here and there to show me what was right and what was wrong; did some interesting careers as soon as I got out of college. But my life is not that interesting or secretive, there is nothing to share. All I have are encyclopedias full of knowledge and the skills of gunman."

"You also have information about other people."

His face grew grim and he seemed to be focusing as hard as he could on the road.

"I would never ask them for personal information. That is the person's own thoughts and theirs alone. Unless I am asked to keep something a secret, then I will."

Ariadne kept silent, not sure how to respond back to that. As brief as his life story was, she wanted to know more.

"Do I still seem threatening?"

Ariadne bit her lip and looked down at the tulip he gave her. A small smirk played across her lips. She couldn't help but laugh which made him give her a curious look. "No, you don't sound it. Besides, if you were, you probably wouldn't have given me this," she said as she gestured to the flower. That seemed to have had made Arthur content. However, she felt another question burn in her throat that she wasn't going to be able to hold back.

"If I asked you to go into my subconscious to uncover something deep, would you do it?" she asked in a hushed tone. She saw the calmness from his face drain; he avoided eye contact with her. His face was blank and it was impossible for her to read what he was thinking. "Arthur-"

"Only if you truly wanted me to do," he said sternly.

The rest of the car ride was silent; no radio, no rolled down windows, no talking. Only the sound of their breathing was present. Her urge to reach out and touch his hand that was resting on the stick shift was tempting, but she looked out the window to get rid of those thoughts. Her fingers wouldn't stop twitching. With a lot of nerve and slight bit of sudden regret, she slid her hand under his, and even went as far as intertwining her fingers. It was a smooth transition as if she had forged his ability to sly, and he would be proud of her. Arthur flinched, not at her touch, but by her surprised action. His face may be blank, but his hand said otherwise; he gave her hand a gently squeeze, one that somewhat comforting. The other half was nothing but pure pain or anxiety. She couldn't tell. She wondered why he had flinched.

But her questioning was cut short as they pulled up to the workshop. He had to let go of her hand in order to park the car. Still acting upon chivalry, he got out of the car after turning it off, went around and opened the door for her. She didn't ask for it, but she suspected that he would be shameful if he didn't act accordingly. He didn't wait on her hand and foot, but there were those opportunities that he took to show that he did have a gentler side. She put her bag over her shoulder and thanked him as she got out of the car.

They went up to the third floor, where it had turned into her personal art studio. She had opened up unused tables to set up her grand assignment that she had wanted Arthur to see. It was a like mini 3D universe made out of Styrofoam. The tables formed in a shape of a U or a giant staple. Arthur glanced over it but didn't go over it completely.

"Want to be surprised?" she asked him, trying to read his thoughts. He grinned at her as she pulled up another lawn chair for him to lie down in.

"Even if I knew the layout," he started, "I would still be amazed."

Ariadne hated it when he made simple but touching remarks. It made her blush terribly, and she could see that he was amused by it for he looked down and smiled. She stood by his seat and gestured to it.

"Your chariot into my subconscious awaits," she said jokingly.

They settled themselves down in the lawn chairs and got set up. With the IVs read to go and the brief case open, the next step was to fall into a dangerous sleep. She looked at him one last time, like they were ready to fall into an eternal slumber. He just nodded and she reached over and pressed the button.

Her eyes closed for a brief moment before she reopened them, and was set in a completely different but familiar setting. She pushed herself up from the concrete ground and walked over to Arthur who was still lying on the runway. He opened his eyes and immediately, the darted to her. He blinked a few times before getting to his feet. As he surveyed the area, Ariadne couldn't help but smile proudly.

"And airport," he stated. He glanced around once more and raised his eyebrows. "A massive airport. It's like the size of Rhode Island."

Ariadne laughed at his comment. The sky was painted with reds, oranges, pinks and purples. She hadn't dreamed of seeing her airport with a backdrop of a sunset yet. The colors were more vivid than in reality.

"It seems empty here," he noted.

"I haven't added any people yet. Well, you shouldn't add any people yet. I'm trying not to until I'm done. It's still under construction, if you will."

There was a loud rumbling noise, and the wind picked up. They both looked at each other and then at the runway. There was a plane that was taking off and speeding towards them. Both of them got pushed back by the wind and eventually Arthur pushed the two of them to the ground, covering her from the gravel that had picked up. The wind made her hair fly everywhere, despite his coverage. From the ground, they watched the plane go higher and higher into the sky.

As he pulled her up and dusted himself off, he asked, "Is anyone flying that thing?"

She pondered that for a minute, wiping the dirt off of her cheek. She smoothed her tangled hair with her fingers, letting her hair fall flat like it had done before she got it cut. "You know," she said, "I'm not really sure." She shrugged it off. "Follow me."

She led him into the airport, which stunned him. He felt like he was in Charles-De-Gaulle airport, the same exact one that they had left from when they were going into Fischer's dream. Not only was she an excellent architect but a meticulous dreamer; she got all the details right. Ariadne smiled at his astonishment. "It's not all normal," she said as she directed him to start walking to their right. "I added a few things to make it more unrealistic to the dreamer."

"Why would you do that?" he asked her. "The whole point is to make it realistic."

"Not until you play with the fantasy part of imagination. I know when I dream, there are times where it's so irrational that it feels rational." They stepped on a moved sidewalk and peered outside the windows that were the walls. She hopped up on the moved railing and held on, while Arthur leaned against it with his arms folded across his chest. "I had to for this layout, anyway. This is my place to escape." The sidewalk seemed never ending. "And I had to make sure it wasn't real or I would get lost." She was playing with her ring that was fastened extra tight around her finger. That was the only thing she didn't like about her totem. It was loose in the real world, and would tighten around her small finger in the dream. It was a good thing, however, so she wouldn't lose it. It was temporary one until she was able to find a more suitable one. "It's not all that bad-" She slid off the railing for the moving sidewalk had ended.

Arthur got off and gaped at the sight he beheld next. The ceiling of the corridor was glass, and overhead was an aquarium. They were donned in a light blue overcast. A shadow covered the blue cast on the flat, thin carpeting. They looked above and saw a shark swim over them. A school of fish swam by to their right behind the thick glass.

"Wow," was all Arthur could say. His eyes took in the marvel sight of her creation.

"I think there's a killer whale in there...somewhere. I don't remember-"

They heard a faint sound of a dolphin calling. As they walked, the dolphins swam on either side of them as well as overhead. The two of them walked at a very slow pace so that Arthur could take everything in. "I like the ocean," she said. "There's something about being underwater that makes me feel relaxed, whether if it's in a dream or not."

"Someone could use that against you."

"It's alright," she said with a shrug. "Having comfort in your dream isn't exactly a bad thing. If it was a nightmare, then I would wake up quicker." She smiled at the dolphins that sped ahead. She looked above to see a group of sea turtles leisurely enjoying their swim.

"How bad did it get?" Arthur asked her. He paused and went up to the glass. He watched two otters dance together. Ariadne joined him.

"What do you mean?"

"I wasn't in it, was I?"

"You were, in the beginning," she admitted as she shuffled your feet. It didn't get to the point where you would appear in person. But you were on posters and other advertisements. Sometimes when I tested the televisions, you were the newscaster, the weather man; you even spoke different languages. Oh and word of advice: don't ever speak Spanish. It doesn't work for you." Arthur smiled and looked away from her and at the otters. "But you weren't in person. Never...I told myself that I wouldn't bring you up. It was for both of our sakes..."

One otter came too close to the glass and looked at the both of them for a mere second before rejoining its partner for another dance. "You wouldn't be the same anyway," she continued. "Dreaming of someone and actually being with them is two different things. I could've made you the best man ever, not giving you one flaw." She watched the two otters chase each other as they swam away playfully. "But then it wouldn't be you."

She continued walking, following in line with the otter's path. Arthur trailed behind her. He stuffed his hands inside his pants pockets.

"It was that hard, huh?" he asked her.

"Sort of."

"Then why did you make an airport?"

She was silent for a moment and stopped dead in her tracks. She turned on her heel to find Arthur right in front of her. "Was it because that was one of the last places we were together?" His question was dead on but she didn't want to admit. However, if she just told him the truth, then she wouldn't have to remember her lies. She looked him dead in the eye.

"It was the only idea that came to mind," she said. She continued to walk and he followed her once more. They were in silence as they admired the sea life. When they reach the end of the tunnel, there were waiting stations for the gates. Ariadne went over to one of the windows and sat on nook's ledge. He sat down beside her. They watched a plane get ready to take off. "I want to know if I could fly."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to go on one of the planes here and see where it would take me. I want to see how far my imagination would stretch."

"Interesting," he said. She eyed him and he just smiled. "You're something else, you know that? Not even Cobb or even Mal would've thought of taking a plane in a dream."

Ariadne remained quiet as they watch the plane's process in taking off by turning on the runway.

"I really made this place because of you," she said softly. "Before I told you that I was 'breaking your rules', this was the only place that gave me hope. I know, it sounds stupid, but I was waiting for you to return. I would go to the airport on my own to get the details, but then add in my own spins so I wouldn't get confused. I can't believe how pathetic I sound; I can't believe I was so hung up on you. My dreams wouldn't leave me alone." The plane took off, taking its flight to God knows where. She wished she was on that plane.

"I dreamt about you too," Arthur said. "It's not just you."

"But your didn't construct this world."

"No, I didn't. That's because it's too incredible for me to dream up." She glanced at him and he was smiling at her. She couldn't help but grin back. "You know what I've always wanted to do when I go to airports?"

"No, what?" she asked as she turned her body towards him.

"Don't tell anyone this, especially Eames," he said pointing a finger at her in a joking matter. "But-" he leaned in like there were people eavesdropping "-I've always wanted to ride the conveyer belts."

Ariadne burst out laughing and felt her heart fill with mirth. "So have I! I never thought of doing that here, though!"

"Then let's go do it," he said with a wink. "This is your dream."

They both got up and she started to lead him to the luggage pick-up. As they reached the ramps, she stopped him by flinging her arm out, where it slammed into his chest. His chest was like a brick wall. She peered over the edge of the ramp and realized she hadn't finished this section of it.

"Paradox," she said playfully. Arthur looked over the edge and raised his eyebrows. "I'm impressed. How far is the drop?"

"Just to the next one. It's not four floors down or anything-"

Arthur jumped down and landed on the ramp below. "Here, I'll catch you."

She's never had anyone catch her before. She looked at his skinny, lean body and thought it wasn't a good idea. But she jumped anyway and he surprisingly caught her. It wasn't the most graceful catch for he stumbled back a little bit from the impact, but this was reality not Hollywood. She had underestimated his strength. He set her down and they continued to the conveyor belts.  
Ariadne took a risk and just curled her pinky around his. Childish, she knew, but she wanted to keep the idea that he was real. Without looking down, he held her hand. Her blush was common now and she wasn't afraid to hide it. They laughed together over small things as they walked. This was the first time she was happy in months.

"Have you died here at all?" he asked her.

"A few times, actually. Not going to lie, but it was rather fun experiencing different ways to die," she laughed. "I had to go in the aquarium once and encountered a shark...at least it was a quick death-" She stopped talking and Arthur caught on to what she was staring at. A tall man stood away from them but stared them down like they were prey. He had a pistol in his hand. "A-Arthur-"  
Arthur didn't say anything but pulled in along. They sprinted down the corridors with the man following close behind them. He fired a shot and Ariadne yelped at the sound. Arthur pulled her through a door that was an emergency stairwell. They raced to the third floor and ducked behind a desk in one of the many shops. There was another man stalking the hall as well.

"Shit," Arthur breathed.

"W-who are they?" she panted. She put her hand over her mouth to cease the sound of her heavy breathing. He didn't answer her. Instead, he went inside one of the drawers underneath the cash register and pulled out a handgun. Obviously, his imagination was kicking in.

"If there's one thing to believe in other than God is ammunition," he said. He grabbed her hand. "Come on." He led her around the counter; they crouched low as they sneaked away. Arthur looked every way for his subconscious. They went inside the same stairwell, but heard footsteps coming up. The first man saw them and fire. It just missed Ariadne's head. She screamed as Arthur and her back tracked. "HIDE!" he yelled.

"They'll still find-"

The door open and with natural instinct, Arthur turned around and fired a shot at the man's head. She jumped and took a step back. The other man must've heard the shot because he was coming around the corner. He was dressed in a military uniform; Ariadne had to pull on Arthur's arm to snap him out of his trance. There was something about that man that made him scared. The sergeant fired at them but missed. Before they could get far from him, he tackled Arthur and started beating him up. The only thing Ariadne could do was try and fight the man off of Arthur. She didn't get far as the man's face back slapped her across her face. Hard. Arthur's face was dripping with blood and so was her cheek. Everything was happening too fast as the three of them started to get into a brawl. She had never seen Arthur that aggressive as he pushed the man off of her. Her head throbbed so much as she watched Arthur fight off the sergeant. There was no way he was going to win. The man was too strong. The two of them knew that.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said as he picked up the fallen pistol. He took aim and fired at Ariadne.

With a short second of pain she jolted awake from her dream. She gasped for air and breathed in and out slowly. Her ring was loose. She wanted to take it off and throw it, but that wouldn't solved anything. She placed a hand over her heart where he had shot her, but nothing was there. Just her clothes. No blood. No wound. Of course there wasn't but she wanted to make sure. She looked over at Arthur and he was staring at her. His loaded die was on the end of the lawn chair; he must've rolled it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

She didn't say anything but just went over to his lawn chair. She sat on the edge next to his hip and then leaned against his chest. He put his arms around her and squeezed her tightly as she grabbed his arms. She was truly scared. Not at the idea that she was killed but that Arthur did it. He didn't do it out of spite, but he was hiding something from her. He stroked her hair and it was calming her adrenaline.

"Do you have a place to stay?" she asked him after what felt like hours of silence. She rose from his chest to look at him. One of his hands remained on her arm.

"I don't have a choice, do I?" he asked right back. His grin was somewhat of comfort.

The drive back to her apartment was a blur. She didn't bring up anything from her dream. But when they got inside her apartment, she started talking like nothing happened.

"You look tired," she said to him.

"I am."

"Why don't you get cleaned up? Take a shower and get comfortable."

Without argument, she showed him the bathroom and left him to clean up. While she listened to the shower run, she made some decaf coffee for herself and a little extra incase he wanted any. As the coffee started to brew, she cleaned up the kitchen a little by putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher. She then headed to her room, but paused at the bathroom. She couldn't help but peer through the crack, for he left it ajar. She saw that he was shaving his face. She watched his reflection in the mirror. He looked tired. The same look he had on his face when they were in the airport and he was there to take her home. She shuddered at the thought of his face covered in blood as she examined his cleanly shaved face. She let her eyes roam over his bare back and saw a medium sized scar near his shoulder blade. There was also one-a white, hot scar-curved like a moon's crest on his left shoulder. Arthur placed his hands on the sides of the sink and bowed his head like he was going to pray. But he was just breathing in and out slowly. Water dripped from his messy hair and down the nape of his neck. She thought he had fallen asleep, until he looked up again at himself in a mirror.

"Jesus," he whispered, "how did that happen?"

Ariadne wanted to go in there, but he still didn't know that she was watching him. She wanted to keep this a secret. This was most vulnerable state she's ever seen him in. Just as he turned to get clothes from his bag, Ariadne was out of sight before he caught her peeking in. She went into her own room and changed into her pajamas. He was a simple man. A simple man with the desire to sleep and dream peacefully.

* * *

Yay! No editing! This airport scene wasn't exactly how I wanted it to go, but oh well. Arthur's problems are going to be discussed in the next chapter. I have it planned out! I wanted Ariadne to be happy. I think it's because I'm in a rather giddy mood right now, so I put her in the same way. not my favorite chapter. But Arthur is up next. Let's hope school and work won't take over my life (although my boss just told me that he'll put me back on the schedule an accidentally overlooked it, thought I was on it, but I wasn't. Yeah, thanks for not letting me make money, man!)

Please review and maybe the next chapter will be up quicker than expected ;) (Because I know what the hell I'm doing...sort of).

Love,  
DivineRose2392-The woman who is innocent on the outside but is a complete whore mentally.

Me: In my four years of college here, I want to see someone streak. Just once.  
Brooke (my best friend/roommate): I'LL DO IT!  
Me: ...Eww. I don't want to see YOU naked!


	5. Starry Eyed

"Ariadne?" Arthur called as he pulled her scarf and a black box that had a plaid ribbon wrapped around it out of his suitcase.

"I'm in the kitchen!" she said. "Take a seat on the couch! Make yourself at home!"

He did as she told him and sat down on her love seat. He put the box on the coffee table but held her scarf in his hands. He couldn't stop fumbling with it as he waited for her. "Coffee?" she asked as she poked her head around the entrance of the kitchen. "It's decaf."

"Sure," he said softly.

"Creamer?"  
"A little, please."

She disappeared inside the kitchen. The smell of coffee was stronger now, and it made him want to curl up on her couch and fall asleep. He was so tired from today's events. With his past jumping in on him like that, he never felt so open. Not in a long time. He bent over, hinged his elbows, resting them on his knees, and rested his head against his palms. He could smell her scarf and it smelled faintly of a light cucumber mixed in with his freshly pressed clothes in his suitcase. He never wanted to hold a gun after what he had done to her in the dream. But it was the only way for her to wake up. To end her dream that turned into an utter nightmare. When he heard her approaching, he sat straight up and wedged her scarf between him and the arm of the couch.

"Thank you," he said as she handed him a red coffee mug. It was delightfully warm between his hands. He took a sip and scalded the back of his throat lightly. Ariadne curled up on the cushion next to him. She seemed so small on her own couch compared to him. Her hair looked fluffy with it's natural wave and how it curled at the ends. She had on a flannel shirt that was rolled up to her elbows and black pajama pants that were much too big on her. Her eyes matched with his and he felt embarrassed. His hair was a mess, and he wore a white t-shirt and navy blue and white flannel pants. Ariadne started giggling, her eyes the color of warm butterscotch. "What?"

"I don't know," she said with a sly grin. "I imagined you in silk pjs or something." She took a sip of her coffee while still wearing her adorable smile.

"Sometimes I think you and Eames think on similar wave lengths in the head."

"At least that means that I have a sense of humor." She looked up at him over her red and white polka-dotted mug. "Not that you don't."

He smirked at her and she gave a quiet giggle. It was funny how different her acted around her. "It's funny how you look so different." And she took the words right out of his head. Maybe it was how he dressed that made him act relaxed. "But I like it. You look..."

"Less threatening?"

"Well yes," she laughed. "Sophisticated in sweat pants. I like it."

"What would happen if I had silk on? What would you think then?"

"Truthfully, that you're too pristine to be working in a dirty job like this."

They shared a laugh. There was no business to exchange. It was just the two of them curled up on her couch acting nonchalant about the whole situation. Her grin turned sad and she looked away from him, back to her coffee. Her voice came out soft and hesitant. "How did you get those scars?"

Arthur almost choked on his coffee. He clear his throat and sat straight up, his back suddenly back stiff. The mention of his scars made them burn under his shirt. Ariadne didn't flinch nor cringe under his gaze, but waited patiently. "I saw when I was passing the bathroom. I didn't mean to invade your privacy, but I happened to see them," she added. She shrugged and continued, "Scar stories are interesting, usually."

He couldn't help but show how exposed he felt. His cheeks started to burn up.

"You don't have to tell me," she said. "I just wanted to know, though. Because I feel like I know you, but I don't know you at all."

"Those are the only two I have," he muttered. Ariadne sat up and listened intently, like a child would when they would be read a bed time story. The one thing he knew about her was that she wasn't shy to say what was on her mind. He picked that up from their phone conversation. But she knew when to reserve herself, just like he met her at her school. Although, there are times when she tries to be discreet and it doesn't work out too well, but he thought it was cute. Just like now. She was trying to be discreet asking him about his scars without trying to unfold a web of conversations. "The one on my shoulder blade is from when I was a teenager. I wasn't exactly a saint when I was younger."

"Oooh, a dark side in pinstripes," she commented with a wink. Arthur laughed which made her smile wholly.

"We weren't stupid, me and my friends. We were rather intelligent-"

"We you the smartest out of them all?"

"I was, in fact. I pitched the brilliant idea and then they put it into play." He shifted in his seat like the scar was jabbing him in the back; that's how it got there. "But we ran into another group whole pulled random pranks like we did. We got into a brawl and one of them had a knife. I pushed my friend out of the way, and the guy knifed me in the back."

"Knifed?"

"Oh, sorry. I lived in London for a while and went to school there. Knifed means stabbed or cut. Every time I think of that fight, I think of that word. Only time I use it. My mom wasn't too happy about it, but she didn't say anything."

"W-what about the other one?" she asked quietly, like she was too afraid to even bring up that memory. And Arthur didn't like talking about it, since she saw the man who did it.

"Well," he said as he touched his shoulder with the scar on it, "I'll tell you the short version of it. I moved back to the states when I was 18. My dad was a high ranking officer in the Marines."

"Is that why you told me about that thing about soldiers and sharing their dreams, right?"

"Right...My dad wasn't exactly the best father in the world. He was strict and firm. I mean, our outings were sniper sessions in the woods. When he left to go overseas, it was my time to do mischeif. My mother didn't mind as long as if i didn't get into trouble or if I didn't die. But one day, he returned home for some peace time and something happened to him. He was a lot meaner. He hit my mother once and struck me when I tried to stop him. He found out one night of what I was up to, and we got into a physical fight. He literally took the shirt off my back, pinned me down and took the poker for the fireplace. " He looked at Ariadne, who looked like she had just seen a dead person, hopefully not Mal. He wondered if she was still haunted by Mal? "I did everything to not let him hit my face. He burned me on my shoulder as I fought to get him off. But...that man you saw in my dream was him. He threatened me in real life and then he did it in my dreams. I couldn't shrug off the feeling. I didn't sleep for weeks. He told me to sleep with one eye open.  
"When I started to go into other people's dreams, he appeared everywhere. I had to learn to block him out. If I got too relaxed in my dream, he would show. I was thankful when I started getting assignments, I was able to focus on that than on that man. That's why I told you that it's difficult to dream with you. I didn't want my past to interfere with your dreams. I understood what Cobb went through, but it's different when you lose your spouse compared to being attacked by your own father. That's why I've built up some subconscious to be a living hell. To block him out. they also make me realize that I'm dreaming; they're not exactly polite, like yours. I think I got a little too comfortable-"

"It was an accident," Ariadne said as she tapped him lightly on his thigh with her small foot. "We can fix that."

"No, you can't."

"We can. If Cobb can do it, so can you. I know you're a very sophisticated man, with high discipline and a strict attitude, but I can help. Because-" She set her coffee cup down on the coffee table, crawled up right next to him, sitting crisscrossed, and took his hands. They were so warm and small compared to his. She played with his fingers as they both remembered that this night was not about business. Arthur kept thinking that it was just the two of them. Eames wouldn't make a guest appearance, Cobb wouldn't call him and ask him to be his wingman-again. "As stupid as this sounds, I do want to share dreams with you. My imagination may be something spectacular to you-" She continued to play with his hands like they were toys. It got to the point where she cracked a few of them. "-But I can't build up something alone. I need someone who is opposite of me, you know."

His fingers wrapped around her hands and she looked up at him cautiously. His thumbs caressed her skin; her skin was gentle and smooth under his touch. He didn't know what to say to her. He didn't want to sound too sappy to sound like a complete idiot. She was smiling at him, accepting his silent thank you.

"I have two things for you," he said quietly. "Something new and something old." He dropped her hands, reached for the black box on the coffee and presented it to her on her lap. "First, something new."

"Arthur-" she began humbly.

"Open it," he insisted. With reluctant fingers, she gradually untied the white bow and set is aside on the table. When she opened it, she gaped and started to do her fragment of sentences just like she did when they spoke on the phone after months of silence. Inside was a tan, red, black and white plaid scarf that was authentic cashmere; one of the most popular patterns in Scotland, but he thought it would fit her. "I figured it would go with your red jacket."

"I-it would. Oh my God," she said dazed. She held it up, completely mesmerized by it. She put it up to her cheek and rubbed it against the scarf. "It's so soft!" She looked at him with the brightest smile on her face. "Thank you-"

"I now have to give you back something old," Arthur said. He pulled out her old scarf as she set the new one aside. Her face fell to a blank stare with an wide eyed look. He set the scarf in her hands where she numbly grabbed it. She rubbed the material in between her fingers, just like he had done many times before. She could feel what was in the scarf; she unfolded it to find her old totem. She held it in her cupped palms like it was a precious gem.

"You...you...Oh my God." She gazed up at him with charming smile. He could see water at the brim of her eyes. She set her old totem aside and threw her arms around his neck, giving him the hug that he truly wanted when he picked her up from school. But he understood why she didn't want to make a scene. This hug was only meant for the two of them, not for the public to view.  
"It haunted me," he whispered against her hair. "I'm so sorry that it took me a long time." Ariadne pulled back to look at him, but she was sitting on her knees with her hands on his shoulders. "I have not been...myself lately."

"Shh," she said as she held his face in her hands. He pressed his cheek against her warm palm. "I'm just happy that you're here and that you even brought back what I had lost, after all of the trouble I made you go through. Thank you." Arthur sighed with relief and he closed his eyes. He reached up to take one of her hands and looked up at her. She had a starry eyed look through the fat tear drops that were still on the verge of falling. "You can sleep now."

"I can sleep now," he repeated in a whisper. He wiped her tears and she bit her lip to hide her grin. "I am very tired."

"I know."

She dropped her hands and sat back on her knees, with her hand lingering on his arm.

"What?" he asked.

"When I went into Cobb's dreams, I met Mal there again. She asked me a question that has been stuck in my mind."

"Are you haunted by Mal?"

"Sort of. It doesn't get to the point where she appears in my dreams. But then I remember you telling me that she was 'lovely' in real life, so I knew what was coming out of Cobb's subconscious was more of a malicious form of her. A shade. But she had asked me if I knew what it felt like to be a lover. 'Half of a whole'." She tried to continue but she was at loss for words. She surveyed the living room as she collected her thoughts. She looked at everything but him. Her hand still laid upon his arm. It was almost like she was embarrassed to look at him, for she had admitted a secret. "I think I kinda understand what she meant."

"Think? Kinda? You're mind is unpredictable. And not to mention, confusing. Contradicting. It's almost like there are many paradoxes going on in there. It's probably not a good idea to get an idea coming from you; you're too complex."

"And you're too simple."

"No, I'm not. Every idea is complex."

"You're not making any sense."

"They're complex as an original idea. Nothing but-"

"Pure creation."

Arthur grinned at her and said, "But then there's you. You liked to twist ideas and ask a chain of questions. You answer questions with questions. Your ideas and answers go around on this infinite loop of confusion until it eventually breaks down and withers. Now are you going to let what Mal said go along the infinite staircase until it runs into one of your paradoxes where it will fall off?"

"For some who is very reserved, you sure have a lot on your mind."

"More than you can imagine," he said as he cast his tired eyes on her. Her eyes were the size of the moon and just as bright. He then glanced down at his lap and closed his eyes. He had a feeling that his father would come bursting through her front door and finish off what he started. She was the first girl he's been with who knew about his father. He never spoke of him, but many relationships failed because of his father. It was difficult to sleep at a girlfriend's house without becoming paranoid.  
He felt Ariadne's hands cup his face and she said, "Hey." He opened his eyes. "It's okay. You're alright." She kissed his temple. Her simple encouragement and soothingness were reasons why he adored her. He put his forehead against hers as she said, "Breathe, Arthur." She gave him a playful smile.

"What's so funny?"

"You said I'm unpredictable? It's not exactly easy trying to figure out what you're thinking," she whispered as she ran her fingers through his hair, "what you're dreaming."

"I've been dreaming of you," he answered quickly. "That's what I've been dreaming of-"

Ariadne cut him off by kissing him lightly on the lips. Her kiss wasn't a trick or a way to disguise them like he had done to her on the second dream level. It was a blissful feeling to kiss her without running from anyone. She was holding back, afraid to kiss him for real. He fell in love with her subtle kisses; they were just a delicate as she was. She smiled against his lips; she had stolen back the kiss he had given her. It was nothing but a simple peck he instructed to give him in the dream, but it was one that tempted them to go further. But they were doing business and it wouldn't have fit the scene right. He grabbed a hold her flannel shirt and deepened the kiss. He sensed her shock as he pulled her into his lap; her smile had disappeared. He was wishing this wouldn't be a nightmare, and somehow Eames had forged himself as Ariadne. That would the worst thing to dream about. Ever. But as he felt her silky, wavy hair tickle his arm, he kissed her deeper. She straddled him, pinning him to the couch; her touch was like strikes of lightning.

She shuddered as his fingers traced down her spine while her hands moved across his slender shoulders and down his chest. He didn't understand how a simple kiss from a dream could drive him this far. He couldn't understand how a girl could make him so vulnerable. She broke from the kiss to catch her breath.

"Dear God," she panted. As she placed her hand over his heart, she smile slightly as she felt it thumping fast in his chest. She cupped one of his cheeks with her free hand and caressed it with her thumb. He tucked her hair behind her ears to see her face better. She studied his face especially his eyes. "You look so tired. I think it's better if we just went to sleep tonight," she said with a wink. She got off of his lap, but grabbed his hands and pulled him up. As she walked backwards, while hold his hand, she flipped off a light switch to turn off the lights in the living room. They entered her bedroom.

"You planned this all along, didn't you?" he asked her. She gave him a cheeky grin. She was in complete control of him tonight. It felt nice for once that he could follow reliable directions from someone else. She was picking great directions, and the idea of sleep was the best she's had. He loved kissing her, but he didn't want to jump the gun. He didn't want to ruin the moment.  
"The couch would've killed your back. Trust me, I've fallen asleep countless times on that thing."

He made her stop at the foot of her bed and held her face in his hands. He realized how short she really was. He bent down and kissed her lips lightly. She had to stand on her tip toes to kiss him back. It was easier to kiss her when they sat, but he found this rather amusing. He crawled into her bed after her. But as he laid on his side, he felt something in his pocket. It was his cellphone. He pulled it out and put it on the nightstand next to him. He rolled over and found her curled up beneath the sheets, staring at him with a smile. He leaned over her and kissed her forehead.

"Thank you," he whispered against her skin. He kissed her cheek and buried his face in her collarbone as he hugged her tightly. She tangled her legs with his and kissed the top of his head. She started to rub his back and it naturally made him drowsy.

On the brink of a deep sleep, he heard her whisper, "I dream of you too."

* * *

Awesome, I got that out of the way. Now to drive back to college. :p Eww, in the car for two hours. At least it's a nice day in Florida!

I'm not exactly thrilled with this chapter. It happened better in my head, but it's difficult to put it on paper. The kiss part I had down. Everything else was play it by ear. Stupid, right? The second scar part, I had something completely different, but that sounded like a bunch of bullshit, so I changed it to his father. And I wanted Arthur to have a mischievous childhood :)  
I've been listening to Ellie Goulding for a long time now, and when someone put Starry Eyed to this couple, I had to apply the song to it. Her music goes so well with them, especially when I'm writing. Love her!.

Next chapter should be the last one.

Review if you want. I already know the prediction of the reviews, "UPDATE SOON! LOVE IT!" (sigh).

Sincerely,  
DivineRose2392-the person who wants to get it on with Eames. Beware Fanfiction. Beware.


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